Fifty Shades Revealed
by clementinesanddaffodiles
Summary: Readers! Here are a series of small tales into the life of Christian Grey. What was childhood like, how was he with Ella, with Mia and Grace? This story will follow up from childhood, to Elena, and end with Ana and how he feels with his own little children. A collected variation of scenes we all mused over while reading the books. Perspective varies to capture it all! Please enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_Grace was smiling, she could feel her face in flush as she descended the staircase from her bedroom, an old photo of Christian in her pocket. Little Christian, only seven years old, she wanted to show it to her daughter in law, to Anastasia. _

_Her heart was tugging at her. Staring down the white steps..._

_Images flooding... A bell tolling..._

**The meeting:**

"Doctor Grey?" She looks up to see Amanda, her nurse, she's with a police officer.

"Yes?" Curiosity growing.

"There's a boy in room five – child abuse victim. No older than five"

Grace immediately leaves her desk and begins to walk down the hallway, the cop and nurse follow in pursuit.

"What do you know, officer?" she directs toward the balding and gray-haired man.

She stops, sullenly at the closed, blue door with the letter 5.

"His mother is dead, we have to wait for the autopsy but she's a definite over-dose, he was with her the whole time, we're guessing by the looks of it for a couple of days, maybe a week."

She nods, sick for a moment. "Physical abuse?"

"We think so, we did not want to touch him. He's very timid and frightened. He won't talk."

Grace does not ask more, her hand meets the cool metal of the doorknob, her interest peaked, the desire a wave, it runs deep in her mind, its burning, acidic. The need to save them all...

The boy peeks up at the door through his eyelashes, not making eye or face contact, he was simply eying her clothes.

_Was it the mean man...the man who hit him..who hit his mommy?_

The body is not a man, but a woman in white, he instantly felt the head splitting fear subside. His little mind was not, however, at ease. It shook, sending a quake all through, to his center

_Where's mommy? Where, Where, Where...Why did she not wake up?_

"Hello" The women bends down onto a chair, staying a good distance.

"My name is Grace" She goes on, her voice angelic "I'm here to see you, I was wondering if you wanted a little piece of candy?" She takes a vitamin chocolate from her white coat pocket. It's a small square, it was a good milky chocolate and the kids never guessed about the vitamin part.

The boy does not move and does not speak. Grace's heart is hurting.

She moves, very slowly, and leaves it a foot away from him where he sat. She then gets up and goes to the counter, not facing him and unnecessarily washes her already clean hands and smiles, quite sadly yet proudly, to herself when she hears the boy unwrapping the treat.

She dries her hands and turns to see him swallowing it and stuffing the wrapping in his pocket. From her guess, he has not eaten a proper meal in weeks.

"I'm a pediatrician. Do you know what that is?"

The boy does not speak.

"I'm a doctor, I help children, like you. Would you like another treat?"

The boy does not speak, but softly nods his head this time. She beams at him, this time handing him the chocolate, and waits for him to take it from her palm.

He does not look at her, but shyly takes it with his finger and thumb. Very careful not to meet skin and unwraps it and eats it, silently.

"Can you show me how old you are, sweetie?" Her voice, charming, low and sweet. The boy likes her voice, it's like strings and wires of violins and cello's and a little guitar.

He's a smart boy, he knows this one and he wants to show her he's smart, so he raises his hand, curling his thumb to him palm, four tiny fingers.

Grace ducks her head softly to see his eyes and smiles warmly "You are so smart, four years old! Your a big boy" Her voice like Fall.

The weary boy is instantly delighted by her gratification and gives a very small, small smile.

Almost pale-faced, the sweeping desire to save this beautiful little gray-eyed boy is even more instantaneous.

"I'm here to make you feel better" She begins to approach him and already his small shoulders and little body are tensed, his hands, clenched.

"See this?" She hands out her stethoscope from about her neck "I use this to listen to how you breath, do you want to try?"

He eyes the object but still does not look at her.

"I promise I won't hurt you, I'm here to make you feel better. I would never hurt you" Her promise is strong and severe even to herself, she says it with such an earnest conviction, even the scared boy reaches out his hand to touch the odd thing she holds out to him.

"You put these in your ear" she says pointing, the boy is nervous and frightened and pokes at it, softly.

"I would never hurt you, I promise. Do you believe me, sweetie?"

The boy takes the thing from her and begins to curiously examine it. No one has ever spoken to him the way she does, he likes it and wants to listen to her.

"Here let me show you" She reaches out for it and he hands it back shyly.

"I'm going to put these in my ear" She demonstrates "then I'm going to put this onto your back and listen to how you breath. Is that okay with you, sweetie?" She does so outside his shirt, breathing time normal. Lung capacity seems normal. She needed to get under the shirt, though, but she was scared too, scared of his fear.

Both of them terrified, she ever so slowly reaches for him "Can you take your shirt off for me? I have to see if you have any boo-boos that I can take care of."

He fidgets, even more disgruntled. "It's okay" She whispers "it's okay"

After a lengthened silence, he does as he's asked of and takes his shirt off, but holds onto it tightly, his little hands baled into fists.

As she gets a look at him she's thrown back into disgusted horror. Burns...

She takes out her log from her notepad kept in her upper right hand pocket and begins to document.

_Subject is a four year old male. Approximately nine round burn marks, clearly made by a lit cigarette. One or two appear to be older than the others. The rest appear to be inflicted upon within the last two months._

"You are so brave" She says to him and he smiles again that small, small smile.

"I'm going to apply some medicine to these" She points "So they can heal and get better. Is that okay?"

The boys eyes widen and he scoots back and shakes his head. Tears threaten to fall, this is too much, too much, too much.

"Please" She begs softly, her voice still smooth and sweet. Her hazel eyes earnest on his "I know you are afraid but remember what I said? I'm here to make you feel better...believe me?"

Grace gets some q-tips and gel and returns by the boys side

"Watch what I do"

She takes off the cap and puts it onto one of the q-tips, slowly and deliberate, making sure he sees.

"Watch closely." and she gently applies it to her finger, the back of her hand, her cheek.

"See? It's good. No hurting. Now I will put it on your-" before she finishes, the boy tenses again, crossing his arms, teary eyed and wounded...

It took over two hours before she could apply the medicine and finish the check up. An hour an half in she got him a juice with a small dosage of Benzodiazepine in it, to which the boy finally relaxed some but still never spoke.

Grace informed the police of a Social Worker she knew named Jesse Richardson and thirty minutes after the call, she arrived. Grace was familiar with Jesse, a pretty black women from Detroit, she had been apart of the process of adopting Elliot. Grace smiled beside herself, thinking of her blue-eyed son.

However the minute Jesse came into view, her smile was gone and she was all business

"I want to adopt the boy"

Jesse blinks at her and replies with care "Grace, we know each other and I trust you more then any other family that poor boy may have, but -"

Grace holds up her hand, it's shaky and her voice is tight "This boy...Has been seriously mentally and physically abused..He was with his dead mother rotting in the house for a week...What family! I can't allow that, he needs someone like me"

Jesse feels sad for the women "Don't you just mean he needs _you?" _

Grace is surprised at her words but not thrown off course for a minute.

"You know where he will be better off" Grace is a proud woman, in rarity it gleams like this.

"Yes, I do and you know I will be on your side, I cannot break the law but while this passes through the courts I can represent you as a willing care-taker, Until then he will have to stay in a foster family"

Grace sighs with a sense of some relief "Thank you"

Before Jesse opened the door she paused and looked back "Don't worry, with already one adopted son, a successful pediatrician, there's not a doubt in my mind"

**The separation:**

The boy was in the front seat, buckled up and still not speaking. Grace was talking softly, still.

The police had identified the boy and his mother as Christian and Ella. The mother, a prostitute and currently her death was being ruled as a purposeful overdose of crack cocaine. The news bit down on Grace's heart.

Jesse was in the driver's seat, quiet and giving Grace a moment before proceedings went about and the boy would be delivered to Foster Care.

"Christian" Grace coos to the little boy, he wonders how she knows his name but he does not want to talk. He won't talk. The fear is in him, _what happened to mommy, where am I going?_

"This nice lady is taking you to a family for a short time, they will take care of you, OK? They will give you something to eat" She silently drops another treat into his open hand "I promise everything will be okay" Her smile is bright and sweet and a part of him believes her, truly.

Grace closes the door with acid in her throat and she steps back unwillingly and before walking back into the hospital, as the car reeves to life, Christian's gray little eyes focus onto hers for the first time. They are scared and rattled and she smiles reassuringly before the red car disappears from view.

**Bad dreams:**

She wake up in sweat, she can hear it, the muffled cries.

Sprinting down the hall, she enters Christian's room, where his sheets are tossed about him, his tiny frame, shuddering and quaking in pure, unadulterated fear.

Sadness grips, like sad piano keys

"No" he moans "Mommy, please, mommy, help me, mommy. Don't let him. No, please"

Grace drops to her knees, quite painfully, and begins stroking the young boys hair.

"I'm here" She coos "Shhh, little angel" she's almost singing and her voice pierces his nightmare and it begins to fade and he breathes, heavily. She only knows the sound of his voice because of the terrors of his unconscious sleep. When he blinks awake, she knows he will not confide in her, he will stay silent.

_Why? _She wants to cry _Why will you not trust me, poor baby? Please._

But she must stay strong for him. "Hey, I got you, I got you, I'm here. _I'm here and I will never let anyone hurt you" _she says this vehemently, with such fervor, even the poor, terror struck child was not disposed to disagree. He stayed quiet, but he was thirsty.

As if she read his mind she coos once more "I'm going to get you some milk, okay baby?" She doesn't wait for an answer, knowing better. But the second she's out of reach he manages to breath out.

"Okay" His voice so tiny, so soft and full of fear. Okay, Okay, Okay, it's okay.

Grace wants to ask him of his nightmare, she wants so badly to hold him and love him. It hurts her and as she pours the milk in a small glass, her hand shakes out of control and it pours onto the counter-top.

"Shit!" She whispers with exasperation, with venom and she chokes back a sob and clutches her heart.

"Shit" She cries, this time, tears flowing, heart throbbing. She instantly wipes them and puts on a brave face as she goes back up the three flights of stairs, back inside his room.

Christian peeks out from his blue covers, still frightened. She hands him the milk and he slowly grabs it and drinks it with gusto, his mouth was parched and his tiny body still rattled up.

When he's done she sets it on his bedside counter, but does not leave him yet.

"I told you, baby. You must tell me when you are hungry or thirsty and I will get you something" She reaches out to him and he tenses up like always, shrinking away...

She drops her hand, hurt. Why won't he trust her?

She tries again, softly she touches his hair and pokes his nose, gently. She wanted to tickle him like she does with Elliot when he had his seldom bad dreams, but she knew better, she knew he would cry and scream and hate her for it. She was fearful of his hate, of his rejection. She wanted to be his mother. Why would he not let her?

_Because _her mind's voice sprung out _Why should he trust you when his own mother abused and neglected him so foully, to such a devastating and grave extent? Why would he trust a stranger? Why would he even want another mother? You. Are. Selfish. _

Grace was not in the mood to argue with herself and numbly agreed. She was being selfish, this boy would need serious help if he was to ever be … normal?

_No,_ she concluded, _the damage was done...He would never be a normal, happy child. _

She blew him a kiss and he smiled that small, small smile. She had to get out, she nimbly closed the door and ran to the bathroom; shutting it with a shiver, as if someone had been chasing her and she slid, broken and devastated down to the floor, where she could let her tears fall from her in waves.

**Mia's arrival **

Grace had known, the second she saw her, that she would be something. Her and her husband were struck at first glance. She giggled and was so lively and sweet. But she was not going to deny it, she was frightened of what Christian would do. How would he react? She hated herself for fearing him with her.

Elliot had not been pleased with Christian's arrival but it was simply rivalry and since Christian was less than needy and craved for solace and to not be touched at all costs, Elliot didn't have much of an issue to help sustain such rivalry.

"Should we be doing this?" Carrick spoke her fear and for some reason this startled and angered her

"_He's_ the victim, _not_ the criminal. He _deserves_ trust..." She realized she was speaking more to herself then her husband and softened her tight dictation "Let's see"

"Christian" She spoke up directing him, no longer were the anxious couple whispering. Christian knew something was amiss, their whispers frightened him and as she called his name, he tensed. What had he done? What was she going to do? His little heart went haywire. The _fear_.

"I want you to meet your little sister" She coos, her voice is always sing/songy and immediately he feels better. Then he processes her words. Little sister?

She offers her hand and after a minute or so, he takes it, knowing she does not give up. She would probably wait forever until his little palm agreed, finally, to meet with hers. Plus she was beginning to take note, he would allow certain places to be touched. Simply allow, not enjoy. This too hurt her.

Carrick had gone ahead to the den where his new daughter was and awaited, anxiously as this tense scene unfolded itself. He was nervous and it showed.

As Christian entered, hand in hand with Grace, his head cocked to the side in wonder. It was a baby, Christian realized, a tiny girl with dark hair and bright eyes. How could eyes be so bright?

Grace had let go of his hand and there was that tense air in the room, emanating only from Grace and Carrick as they saw the boys eyes widen..In curiosity?

Mia giggled suddenly and shook around, playfully reaching for Christian and she tugged at the air, attempting to sit up but falling into the back cushion. She then smiled toothless and made some squeaky, nonsense noise that was high pitched and light.

This was the most innocent and safe thing Christian had ever seen. A child. He smiled to her and she made the noise again, reaching out "Gghap" She squealed, her hands were so tiny, he saw this with awe.

"_My_ little sister?" His words were barley audible and Grace sucked in a hard breath, wanting to scream and double over in delight. _He spoke!_

"Yes Christian, her name is Mia" She said softly

"And you are her big brother" Carrick added on, just as sincere, "Big brothers take care of their little sisters, protect them"

"Mia" he spoke up, just a fraction of a bit and Carrick and Grace looked at one another in utter shock.

_Protect_..Christian knew this word and suddenly everything began to change. Protect her. Yes, he would protect her. He smiled and she squealed louder this time, reaching out further to Christian from the couch Carrick had uneasily placed her on. She was a demanding little thing and was not going to accept refusal, she wanted attention from the one who had not yet given it to her.

"Gaapshh" She drooled a little in her outburst and Christian pulled out his shirt and stepping closer, ever so slightly wiped it away.

Mia seized this chance and grabbed a hold of him and giggled profusely, sensing victory. She gazed up at him, still all smiley and bright. That was all it took...

**The protector:**

"Mia" Christian chimed, holding her hand, which was grasping onto his head "let go" He spoke softly and she giggled loudly and let go, only to grab his cheek and make a funny face.

Grace who spied on them from the kitchen, smiled. She had no idea the profound effect Mia would have on Christian, that he would talk and love and watch out for her but he did and he did it with such delicate care it broke her heart only for it to meld together each time she saw him carry her or feed her or play with her.

She recalled what Doctor Reyes had said, a child psychologist she had consulted.

_"Christian may see himself in the child, as something to be saved and loved and protected. As he was denied all these proper and necessary components of a healthy and stable infancy. He may see her as his token for change, in a very unconscious manner, so to speak. We can't be sure, he's obviously quite smitten, as you say he allows her to touch him...perhaps her innocence and young age provide him with a sense of safety, he knows she cannot hurt him the way others have. I can say, though, it is very good that he is attentive to her. Many children in his case can be very despondent and uncaring. We are not out of the clear yet, but he's moving on, which is what is most important. Let him concentrate on that."_

**_Later:_**

Grace awoke to the colicky cries of Mia and reluctant to move from her comfortable position, turned over to Carrick, just as he feigned snoring.

"Faker!" She accused and her husband, whom struggled not to smile but failed miserably, gave another snore. She rolled her eyes at him and gave him a shove. Glancing at the clock on the way out, it read three forty-seven, _Give me a break _she sighed and out into the hall she went.

Mia had gone silent, quite suddenly and Grace was about to take full advantage and turn on her heel to head back to bed, but right before she could she noticed Christian's door was ajar. Curiosity beseeched her bones and she stepped out of her slippers, wanting silence on her side and went to have a peek. The room was empty, as she spun around she noticed Mia's door, it too was open. On the tips of toes, she slightly took a peek around the wedge of wood and was shocked and heart-warmed at the picture before her.

Christian had slid down the latch to Mia's crib and was cradling the child in his arms, one hand under her, the other holding her head. He rocked her, with the sweetness of a mother.

The image was so tender, that it reared her into tears and they fell freely down her face, weaving into webs before cast aside by her shaking fingers.

Christian then laid her, gently back into the crib, kissing her forehead.

"Goodnight Mia" He whispered, before raising the latch again. Grace scurried for her room, not wanting to be seen and closed the door as quick and quiet as she could.

She found it hard to make it back to the bed and sat on its edge, playing the tender moment over and over again in head.

"Hey" Carrick said, softly "What is it?"

Grace couldn't find her words and smiled numbly at a dawning realization.

_Maybe that's why he could never speak...He couldn't find his words. _

"Grace, honey?" Carrick sat up, worried and reached to touch his wife's back.

"C-Christian...He, was holding her. _Cradling_ her and she stopped...Mia..she stopped crying and he..." she swallowed back sobs "Kissed her forehead and put her back to – sleep" She croaked on her own words, visibly Carrick could see her rattling with contained sobs and scooted over to hug his wife, his arms wrapping around her and she let loose her cries.

"Shhh" he said, with sweetness "It's okay, it's okay"


	2. Ella

_Disclaimer: This chapter can be disturbing, to some. As you imagine, this is a brief and one of the only encounters where we really see Ella, her addiction and it's effect on her and her son. This was a hard write as I have had my own experiences with family members who were addicts themselves. Since this can be highly personal, I want to let any reader out there who may be effected by these circumstances that my inbox is always open. One love! _

**Ella:**

Her arms were itchy, in fact, all of her was itchy. She glanced at herself in the mirror -

_You're so ugly, you're so ugly _She thought, wickedly and sadly, to herself and hurriedly tried to make herself prettier. She put on some lipstick, she didn't want Greg to be angry. To have him call her ugly.

_But you are _ the voice came again. The fucking itching. She was withdrawing, the symptoms clear and bleak and they could only mean one thing.

The bad man was coming back. Christian knew this, whenever mommy looked scared and itchy and asked him if she was pretty...He knew, even at the meek and tender age of four, he knew.

"Christian!" She called and he peeked up at her "Am I ugly?" There are tears in her eyes and she walks to him in quick strides, bends down and looks him in his eyes "Tell your mommy the truth, Christian. Aren't I ugly?"

Christian swallows "No, No Mommy you are so pretty"

This does not appease her and she gets up and crosses her arms, looking down begrudgingly on the child. _Her _child.

Ella rolls her eyes but then sits down, not facing him "Braid my hair" her voice softer now, one of the only things the child did that pleased her, was when he braided her hair. Otherwise, he asked too many questions and was scared too often. He needed too much of everything. Food, love, her. It was so tiring she sometimes wanted to die.

"Okay Mommy" he sits up, getting closer to her and separates her thick, long brown hair into three big pieces and begins to braid it, just like she taught him. When he nears the ending, she can feel it and hands the boy her tie. He does this, gingerly. Happy, this is how helps.

"Good boy" She says as she turns to him and smiles. He loves her smile. She reaches out and shakes her fingers in his hair, softly.

Suddenly there are two loud bangs on the door and Christian jumps up, wide eyed and fearful as Ella scurries, barefoot over the green carpet to open the door in haste.

It's Greg, with the promise to stop the itching. He looks at her, displeased already.

"What the fuck is he doing here all the fucking time?" He juts his chin out to Christian, whose already shaking.

"I- I have nowhere to leave him" She pleas "I'm sorry, he won't talk"

She glances uneasily to the boy and her face is not reassuring but something else...Needy, she looks frantic _Stay quiet _it says and so he obliges, knowing what it meant if he didn't. Knowing it meant mommy was to get hurt and so would he._  
_

"Well" His voice changes, disturbing ideas reach his mind. If she wanted him here so bad...The little bitch would have to watch. "Now he can enjoy the view"

Greg reaches for her and slams her hard into the couch, she grunts, her arms and legs flying above her, as her neck and head smash onto the arm rest. She cries out in pain.

"Mommy!" Christian scurries nearer. Breaking the rule and Greg is only too happy for it.

"Thought you said he wasn't going to talk." He pulls her off the couch by her hair, forcing her to sit and pulls back, so she's on her knees, and facing the boy. "Tell your son you're a lying whore"

She cries, she doesn't want to say it, but he's right...he's right. It took a second to long and he kicks her in her back, while still grabbing a tight hold on her hair, causing her to bend, unnaturally and she screams out, again in pain.

"I'm a lying whore!" Ella whimpers at her son but does not meet his eyes.

"Look at him, say his name" Greg's voice is surprisingly neutral. This is fun. He shakes her a bit, still ripping at her hair

"Christian, I'm a lying _whore_" She mutters in defeat, staring at her sons frightened and confused gray eyes. They are such pretty eyes, she notes.

Greg throws her aside "Good" and walks right to Christian, Ella does not make a move to stop him, she can only bawl herself up, still looking at him. Those are pretty eyes, she notes again.

He grabs the boy by his shirt and drags him into the nearest room and tosses him in there. Forcing him onto the ground, hard. It hurts the boy and he does not like that he can't see his mommy.

"Don't open this fucking door, you little shit" He grimaces in disgust and annoyance "Or i'll fuck your little mom so hard she bleeds" The boy does not fully understand this but knows it is bad. Very bad. He should listen. Bleeding, he's made the poor boy bleed before. When he knocked him into the sink and made him hit his head.

The man closes the door and Christian pulls his knees up to his chest. Silence, he's so afraid to hear but so afraid not to either.

Suddenly, the familiar racket. He does not understand the grunts and moans, they are loud and make him worry. There is soft whimpering as Ella takes the brutal beating and the brutal sex and shame.

"You like it don't you, _whore_." He mocks her emphasis on the word and there are more whimpers and Christian crawls to the door, he wants to open it, he wants to go get his mommy and take her away.

"Say it you disgusting bitch" Christian could hear more beating and she cries "Ye-es!"

Sobs and more beating. Christian covers his hears and starts to hum. He too feels his body racking with sobs.

After a long while, he hears the door shut, loudly. He waits longer, not wanting to disobey and get hurt...Get his mommy hurt. Hours pass, his tummy grumbles and his eyes are groggy.

He carefully twists the knob with both hands and peeks out. No one is there.

"Mommy?" Christian cries out. Nothing, he is met with a draining silence.

As time continues, pacing like a pulse. He waits and waits. Thumps, - the time goes in thumps and it's as if he can count them but their are too many to count and he does not know that many thumps.

Suddenly, the door rattles open and she walks in to see Christian, still so wide-eyed and on the couch.

"Mommy!"

"He-ey little guy" Her voice is unnaturally loud, and off key "What are you still doing up" She laughs a little crazy and he is more frightened now.

"Mommy?"

She grunts her eyes wide and wired "What? why are you whiny, Christian?"

She begins dotting around the room, quite quickly, rubbing at her arm, sniffing, rubbing her eyes, somewhat cleaning things as she goes by "Go clean up, you're filthy then you can go to bed, its late and I need to do stuff. Always stuff to do, no time. why are you staring at me, Christian? Go!" She anxiously runs her fingers through her, now, un-braided hair...

Once, twice and then she stares blankly at him "Oh, Jesus. I swear you are the neediest thing I've ever seen"

"Are you okay, mommy?" His voice is very low, why is she angry with him? He does not like it, he feels the contempt and wants to cry.

"Oh I' am _so_ good Christian" She smiles her eyes faltering "Mommy feels ju-uust fine" She laughs, hysterical again, and whisks him up into the air and he smiles besides the fear.

"Now Christian is going to bed, because mommy needs time to herself" She takes him off into the direction of the one bed they share. Sometimes the bed has funny stains and mommy says its too dirty and so he sleeps on the couch. But today, he sleeps on the bed.

**Days later:**

Christian is eating some cereal from a box, his little hands barley able to grip it and eat it at the same time. Mommy is very sad and stays in bed and stays and stays. He's gone to play with her hair and rub her face but she only cries. Now, he leaves some cereal by her head but she only looks at him through glazed and distant eyes and shoves them off the bed

"No" she says and Christian is fraught with her rejection. "Go away" she wails.

The aluminum pipe she smokes from is empty. She's out again. She hates those words and she fears them _"Out"_ and again she is.

Christian is marred by her words and his eyes quickly begin producing tears. He whimpers, softly before leaving her as he's asked.

_What pretty eyes_, she thought, as she watched him go.

Later she finds it in her to rise and move. She can call Greg, yes, that's what she'll do. He will make her happy and energetic once more. Or he will have the magic which can. Ella rarely sees the fine line now, they have blended. The crack and Greg, becoming one another.

As she stands from bed to take a step, she slips on the cereal Christian had offered, using the table beside her to balance. An ash tray falls over and cracks to pieces, it creates a still silence and the woman yells.

"Christian! Why did you leave these here? What are you trying to do? Why? _Why? _ Why are you messing things up all the time?" She stalks angrily towards him, till she's hovering down, staring.

He had been sitting at the edge of her bed playing with his little cars and now he's frightened by her words, guilt splashing through him and soaking him to the core

"WHY?" She yells more forcefully, and reaches down to shake him by his arms, and it only rendered him to pee himself and she noticed with raging anger.

"You do it on purpose!" She grabs his arm and shoves him into the bathroom and begins undressing him.

"Clean yourself" She barks and leaves him there to shiver and pant, alone.

She returns with new clothes and places them on the toilet "Christian, please, stop doing such things" and she closes the door again.

He does not mean to, he swears he does not and she can hear him through the door. The sound in her sons voice should be heartbreaking but she only wants to gain some relief and it is not here with her son. It is with Greg.

The boy sniffs "I don't mean to" He whimpers again but Ella has left and he can hear her on the phone now. It was grown up stuff and he did not understand. What he did know was this meant, again, the bad man would come.

**Later:**

Christian was all cleaned up and had resumed playing with his cars. Making them race and doing theatrical noises with his mouth. Ella glanced over from the bed and nudged him with her toes

"You are so silly" She laughed and he knew mommy forgave him and he smiled.

He took the cars and now made them race on the bed and Ella watched a tad bemused and rolled her eyes.

Then - _"Bam! Bam!"_ the forceful jabs on the door and Christian knew it was over. The smile on his faced dropped and he stopped making cartoon noises. Ella jumped up, stepping on the shards of the broken ashtray and howled in pain.

"Fuck" She cursed and the door was banged on again

"Open it" She said while cradling her foot, taking out the small piece of glass. Not bad. She quickly slid the remainder of the mess under the bed and then eyed Christian wearily as he stayed still.

Christian shook his head at her and she raised her eyebrows in disbelief. More loud bangs. Greg is angry now. She wobbles over to the door but not before sending a shooting gaze to her son. It mustered up so much dislike he was starting to cry, again.

"What took you so long, you fucking bitch?" He slaps her hard before closing the door.

"See?" She mouthed to Christian and the guilt twists his tummy up in so many knots it threatens to pull on his gag reflex and make him vomit up the cereal he's been eating the passed two days.

"I'm so fucking sick of you" Greg slaps her again and again and Christian wants to run to the bathroom and lock the door like he sometimes did. So no one could get in and eventually mommy would knock, very soft and say she had to use the bathroom. Only then, would he twist the little mechanism on the handle which allowed her inside.

"Go" She says and he complies going to the nearest room with a door, into the closet and he closes it, trembling. The familiar story hashes out. The cries and the grunts and again Christian closes his ears are starts to hum. His body rocking, trying to grip with the strong sense of fear and what seems like an eternity later, Ella opens the closet. She is naked and she reaches for her robe.

"Christian?" She says, she had forgotten he was there. He crawls out and the man is still on the bed, he is smoking and watching television.

The man laughs when he takes in Christian's expression. Puffy eyes and red cheeks. Ella heaves him from the floor and turns back to the bad man who is now looking around angrily.

"Where's the ashtray" His voice like venom, Christian knows what happened, he is afraid now.

The man gets up and walks directly towards Ella, he hits her so hard she falls to the ground with a loud gasp and bangs her head against the floor on the way down. "Answer when I fucking ask or -" before he finishes he smiles, it's a very evil smile.

He grabs Christian and holds him down and Christian is all arms and legs, thrashing and crying

"This looks like an ashtray to me" He digs the cigarette through the shirt, letting it simmer to meet skin "the closest thing you've got anyway"

Ella can barley hear him over the screams the boy makes. He screams so loud..._so loud_ and Ella remains on the ground, struck, she does not want to look and the screams only rage on...

_I'm sorry_ she says in her mind. _I'm sorry for that boy with the pretty eyes_.

**Four years later:**

Christian rolls his eyes. He agreed to play hide and seek with Mia but she couldn't stifle her giggles. She could see his feet from underneath the table and tried harder to be silent. But he could obviously still hear her, out of love, he walked passed, pretending to be dubious.

He had explained the first time that the entire point was to be quiet when she hid, but she only made a funny face and grabbed his cheek. It became her motto of affection. He liked it, it pleased him that he was her favorite. It was clear, it was Christian she wanted to play with most, Christian she wanted to read her bedtime stories, when she fell and hit her knee on the staircase, it was Christian she went to with her tears and he had kissed it and made it all better.

"Boo!" Mia crawled out, utterly pleased with herself, as she saw his feet stalk by and not even think to check there. She giggled and clapped her hands and Christian swooped her up and smiled at his foolhardy little sister. Her head against his chest, she was still laughing.

"You win" He nods his head at her and she smiles, widely and her eyes sparkling and bright, as always, she put her dangling feet to the ground and ran to the counting sofa.

"_One...two_" She started screaming, not able to contain her joy at such a trivial thing as hide and seek and to Christian, it was refreshing enough to hinder his old reasons for hiding in closets and under tables. With her, everything was too light and airy and carefree.

He smiled as he hid behind a curtain, dutifully leaving his feet exposed.

**Five years later:**

Christian's lip was busted open. It felt good. A strange release was found, in beating the boy in his class. In beating the shit out of anyone, really.  
Honestly, Christian didn't even remember what the boy had said. Some smart-ass remark. It was enough, it was all he needed. He grabbed the boy and shoved him against the nearest wall, banging his head with force, beating his stomach, his ribs, his face.

"What the the fuck!" The boy yelled, scared. He had never been hit before and with his eyes shut, he hit back, missing most of the time. But one, good and hard jab met the other boys lip and knocked his head back.

School security narrowly met their obligation to break up the fighting boys. Garcia was the mans name who pulled Christian away, and he was not paid enough for this shit, as he would often mumble to himself.

Christian had quickly shook the older mans touch, like he had met fire and said so softly _"Don't touch me"_ in such a tight, gripped manner, Garcia swallowed. The voice was too cool, it was disturbing.

"Take it easy, kid" Garcia reasoned. Suddenly, uncomfortable around this fourteen year old, who was seemingly demonic to the superstitious man.

"I gotta take you the Principle's office, ya know that. Just, lead the way. I'm sure you know it" The security cleared his throat, while the boy glared at him. Defiant and cruel.

"Fuck off" was his response and he was about to turn away, when the Principle arrived there, herself. _Mrs, Don_

She had long, brown hair and green eyes. She was very pretty and she crossed her arms across her chest as she eyed Christian.

Christian liked the way she looked at him, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. Slowly, she raised her hand and motioned him to follow. She turned her back and went straight for her office. Not bothering to make sure he followed.

He did, however, thinking some dirty things on the way, and upon entering she spoke "Close the door and sit down, Christian"

Once he was sitting, she eyed him with benevolence. "Your mother is on her way"

"My mother is dead" Christian said this as a matter of fact. No anger, no sadness.

"Christian!" She gasped, down right shocked. "I-"

She stopped, embarrassed. What could she say? Mrs, Don came from a happy, stable home. Both her parents were still alive, still married and they had dinner every weekend. How could she console what seemed so...inconsolable? Here, she had no experience, no words to give and she pressed her lips together in a hard line. She was at a loss, and they both knew it.

"I'm sorry" she said, sadly, correcting herself "_Grace_ is on her way"

"Sorry for what?" Christian's eyes heated at her pity. He wanted to slap the girl. How dare she?

Mrs, Dons eyes widened. How could a boy so much younger, know how to make her feel so...uneasy?

"I'm sorry..." she racked her mind..That you're so fucked up? Your mom is dead? Your clearly upset and hurt and confused?

"That I'm going to have to expel you, Christian"

This was true. She had not wanted to make this choice, but he had fought too much, his grades were poor, his teachers and peers against him. There was no argument on her side for keeping the boy.

Christian raised his eyebrows at her but said nothing. He felt nothing. It didn't matter. Destroying everything, fucking leaving it for dead. He didn't give a shit. Fuck this little bitch, fuck the kids, fuck the fucking school.

The door jumbled open and Grace let herself in, her eyes were busy on Christian, taking in his appearance. His cut lip, the bruising jaw.

"Are you alright?" She asked. Christian hated her at this moment, why did she care? Why was her voice so full of fucking love? He gritted his teeth. This angel was too much for him. He did not want her love, her forgiveness. He wanted nothing to keep him from his hate and anger.

"Yes" He said, exasperated by her probing eyes and looked away, the anger leveling.

**In Grace's car - The ride home:**

"Do you want to talk about it?" Grace was nervous but did not show it. She wanted to be on his side, she wanted so badly to protect this little boy. The same sweet, little boy she had met in that hospital room. Still so scared he was, still so confused. Still so distant.

"No" His voice like a whip, cracking the air and making her twitch.

"You know I'm always here for you. I'm your mom, i'll always be on your-"

"No your not" Christian interrupted and immediately regretted it. Grace looked at him with wide-eyes, filled with such hurt and such pain. For some sick reason, Christian enjoyed it. He wanted her to hate him. She was the only true mom he ever knew, and for that, he wanted and believed whole heartedly that he deserved her hate

"Well-" her voice, choked, her eyes back on the winding road home "I think of you as my son and you don't have to love me. I love you"

Christian wanted to scream and rip out his hair. Why? Why? WHY THE FUCK?

When they got inside Grace had offered him some repair to his wounds, when he denied her, she turned her back on him and walked up the stairs and shut the door to her room. When Christian had stalked by it to head to his own room, he could hear her sobs through the door.

_See what you do to everyone? See how you break everything? _His voice was harshest in his head, directed towards himself. _Yes, yes I did it on purpose._

He'd drive them all away, one day. He'd fuck it all up, make it all crumble. His reality must be as his mind. Dark, lonely, so fucking angry.

Then, there was a shy but distinct knock on the door and Mia stuck her head in.

"What is it?" Christian asked. His voice evening out.

The small girl stepped inside and from behind her back brought out a first aid kit

"Not now, Mia"

"_Yes now"_ Still as demanding as when she was an infant on the couch, meeting Christian for the first time "I have Cello lessons and you are such a pig-head you know?"

"Yes...I know" Christian smiled at her, the little, sweet and lovely brat.

She opened the case and took out a disinfecting cloth, then strode over, carelessly to the boy and grabbed his chin. Rubbing the cloth on his lip and the smaller cut by his eye. She was not delicate, but not harsh either.

"You make mom so sad" She stated "I heard her. She told dad you said she wasn't your mom and she thinks you hate her. But you don't. But you pretend"

Mia was an insightful child or she just knew her big brother well. He could not tell, but he admired her stature, the way she spoke her mind without any blockade, how she was not sorry for him. Not that he could tell.

She continued, as she applied Neosporin. "Remember when I broke your airplane thing a year ago? You were mad at me" She giggles and it sounded sweet. He had scolded her for not being careful and she started to cry. But then he hugged her to his chest and said it was okay.

Christian smiled his small, small smile at the memory. It was both sad and happy for some reason.

"I said I was sorry and so did you and we both felt better. Maybe you should do the same with mom, cause you know, you sort of broke something of hers."

"Okay" Christian said after a long while "Just because you are such a whiny pain!" he tagged along just to be a pig-head.

She stuck her tongue out and smacked him in the chest. Then grabbed his cheek, lovingly like always, but this time it hurt because she chose the side the boy had roughed up. Christian did not stop her though.

"I love you" she said, before skipping out and closing the door behind her.


	3. Elena

**The "I'm sorry":**

After dinner, Grace had not stayed to chat with her children and husband. She had went straight back up the stairs and into her room. All night, Christian had been taking notice of her red, rimmed eyes. She looked so...fucking sad. Christian could not take this and at one point, he met Mia's stern stare.

_"Say sorry"_ Her face told and Christian looked away, embarrassed at his behavior, his words, at least now that the anger had subsided, delved within the shadows of his mind - waiting to come out, again at a later time. Only dormant...it waits for opportunity, for chance, for the most perfect of moments to, suddenly, rip its way into the chalice of his cerebrum and mar it with a foul, all-consuming hate. It was odd, as if it did not belong to him but had rather possessed his body.

Carrick was giving Christian the cold shoulder. Speaking mainly to Elliot and Mia. He did not understand the other boy. Secretly, he sometimes regretted his wife's determination to earn the boys trust and love. For ever adopting a boy with such problems, that was such a mess and so hard to care for.

He had voiced this only once to her and never would he do it again...

_"What now?" Carrick said, pure exasperation in his tone._

_Grace shook her head, not wanting to discuss it. Why would Christian refuse her love? It shattered a very deep and important fractal of her self-worth and confidence as a mother. Upsetting her, in a place Carrick could not understand._

_"I don't get it" Carrick sighed "He is almost a nuisance. So angry and distant. He's not our child like Mia and Elliot are. Don't let it bother you so"_

_Grace had whipped her head around, so fast in fact, Carrick's eyes went wide. She gave him the darkest face he had ever seen from her, eyes narrowed, lips hard._

_"Don't you ever say that again" She threatened "He is MY son and never will I feel otherwise. Just because he isn't as easy to gain affections from as my other children, just because he is so much harder...so many more problems" She stopped, barley able to continue "Never say that to me again"_

_Carrick felt ashamed, the whole night he twitched and fidgeted in bed. He felt sorry for Christian, for his wife. The sorrow came like rain. _

After some time mulling in his room, Christian shot up, a braveness entrancing him, and he took off right to Grace's door.

He knocked once, quick, almost too soft and feeble. He almost thought he got away with it too, but Grace's sad voice, echoed out to him.

"Come in" She said

Very softly, Christian opened the door to meet her. Taking only one step in, and barley shutting the door, he spoke quickly and shyly

"I-I-m sorry..."He began, he shuffled his feet, awkward

"For what I said in the car. I do-" _I do love you! _ Oh, he almost said it, but this emotion caught him off guard and it only frightened him. Why? He could not explain. "...not hate you" He added instead, lamely.

"I'm sorry" He said again and that was all he could give and was about to turn and leave when Grace approached him. Immediately he tensed. She had always, _always_, tried to touch him. Where others had given up, gotten use to it, she never would. It was daunting.

This time, however, she did not. "I'm glad, I just wish you..." She started and then was not sure...She wished so many things for him.

"- Wish you would realize that I'm on your side. I promised you, the first day I met you. I would never hurt you. I want you to trust me, not just 'not hate me' I want you to confide in me, I want you to understand my love for you. I' am asking too much, I know. I' am sorry too. Sorry that...I don't know what to do. Sorry I don't -...I just don't know what to do to make it okay"

This was the longest, most honest speech, she had ever given to the boy and he stared, unable to breath correctly. She was always too much for him. It was too hard to accept this woman. He didn't know why this was either.

As a small child, he would dream that one day his mommy would love him like this. That he would one day, say the right thing that would forever win her adoration. When it came that he had gained such a devotion, he did not know how to accept it. It seemed to the Gods, that perhaps it had come too late and now, the boy was bent up, attempting to contain the series of emotions that dragged at his entire being.

"Don't cry" he begged at the woman in front of him. This angel of his "I know...I'm sorry. I can't"

He backed up into the door, his palms up...Like he was at some kind of emotional gunpoint.

Grace sensed his fear and straightened her shoulders.

She must be strong for him. This had become a mantra of hers. Always, she said to herself, _You must be strong for him._

"It's okay, it's okay. Don't worry, baby" Her voice back to that coo, the one she reserved for moments such as these. "I'm okay, go ahead to your room"

Christian sighed, a weight off his back. He gave her one apologetic glance, before going back into his room.

Meanwhile, Grace laid back down against the soft cushion of her mattress. Smiling, besides it all. This was a step, such a small step. _But a step_ and one day, she thought, he'd climb all the way up the winding stairs and a bell would toll and she'd get to hug her son, tight and close and he would let her and he'd smile too.

**Elliot - The big brother:**

Christian was now going to high school with Elliot. Where the girls were often very disposed to them, they were both attractive but only Elliot bathed himself in the luster of their affections. Christian, would rather make 'dirty sinks' with Carrick's extensive options of hard liquor. Pouring a few slugs of each into a thermos, so the man would not notice and through-out the day he would take burning chugs, until he often ended up in the boys bathroom, passing out for hours in a lone stall.

Elliot was not ignorant to his brother's behavior but always kept that shit to himself, much to Christian's appreciation. He didn't see it as his place to confront his troubled brother and one day, one of Elliot's classmates approached the subject, rather cruelly.

"Your brother is a real fucked up kid, isn't he?"

"What?" Elliot responded, completely taken by surprise.

"Your brother. He's a real freak." His laugh, mocking and arrogant "I think the creep needs some help. Some professional kind of help. Don't you think?"

Elliot's body roared with rage. He knew bits and pieces of his brother's tormented past, he had too heard the cries he made in his sleep, knew of the nightmares, the calamity of such a childhood. He remembered the funny way the kid had said his name "Lelliot" not able to pronounce it quite right and once he had learned, Elliot had been privately, rather sad. It was an endearing thing and he had liked it and now this jit thought he could speak of something he had no right to...No understanding of? Not a fucking chance.

The intensity of it all came to a boiling head and Elliot easily backed the kid into a wall and decked him, once and very hard in the nose. A satisfying crunch was heard and the child slid down, grasping his face.

"Watch your mouth" He spit "That's my brother you're talking about"

"You're fucking crazy too!" The kid, cried and Elliot only burst into a booming laugh before stalking off.

When he was called into the office later that day, he got suspended for a week. He never told anyone why he punched the boy. Elliot was the quiet hero.

Christian would hear from word of mouth days later and though he never knew how to thank his older brother for his defensiveness over him, he swore to himself that he'd always have his back and that he would one day return the favor.

**Elena:**

"Head up, Christian" Elena says, brute "When you dance, you keep your posture, elegant. You are flying"

He suppressed the urge to tell her to shut the fuck up. He knew it would cause for a beating. He had been behaving so well too. When he behaved well, he got treated well.

Not that he fully disliked the beating. Sometimes he would mouth off just to get the blonde all riled up. She would demonstrate her power over him, tie him up, take a belt to him and then fuck him. He almost wanted to laugh, it was ridiculous what this woman had done to him.

_"Your mother tells me you are getting poor grades" Elena said one day, not too long after their affair had just begun._

_ Her eyes, exacting. Dirty things overwhelming her, she was terribly attracted to the teenage boy. Her views were in the highest of double-standards, she did not agree with pedophilia, not exactly. As long as the woman was the older one, it would be okay. Boys always loved a hot woman, a curvy blonde like her was a gift. She was blessing him with her sex, her domination of him in all things and in turn, giving all kinds of pleasures. _

_"I don't think that has anything to do with you or us" Christian retorted, annoyed. He didn't like when Grace was mentioned from the sexy, serpents lips. _

_"Kneel" Elena said, vigorously. Once the boy complied, she was full on dominatrix. "Look at me"_

_His head turned up, those pretty eyes on hers. "It's not your place to tell me what you think. I'm telling you. Get your grades up or there will be harsh consequences"_

_She gave the boy a hard slap and his face turned only slightly, and then went right back onto hers. Christian's eyes were heated now and Elena walked around him, like he was prey to her every dirty need. And oh boy, he was, he was. _

_"What are you going to do?" She says_

_"Bring my grades up, Mistress" He knew what to call her when she was in this mode. She liked that word from the boys lips and instantly unraveled. _

_"Get up, take me here, on this couch" _

_Christian would owe his skills to a woman's body, to Elena. Her demonstrations with him had taught him well. He knew how to touch, to rub, to fondle, to make her come for him. Elena made sure of it and now he understood what felt over the top and mind-blowingly good to the female anatomy. _

_This pleased Elena's demon. The sickness in her, thriving off her practices with the young boy. How he listened, his eagerness to obey so she would please him. He was so easy to please...With her mouth, her hands, her body._

_Christian was eager to comply. Her roughness with him was a turn on. A strange, unknown paradise, filled with pain and pleasure. _

_He was strong enough to grab her around the waist and lift her, so he was in between her legs. She gnawed her nails into his shoulder as if looking for blood. _

_The boy draped her over the couch, biting and kissing and licking her neck. She never let other submissive's of hers fuck her like this. Christian was just a very good looking boy and she reveled in the fact that his innocence was hers, all hers. _

_She flipped sides, so she was now on top of the boy. She gave him a slap, another slap and another, not very hard, and then she rode him with her hand at his throat._

_Elena's abuse tickled his groin. In a demented way her demons met well with his and they danced in their sickness. The understanding was mutual, it was fucking, hard fucking that would sedate the splinter in his brain for a while, calm the burning rage and irritation, just for a small while before darkness once again took hold..._

_He did not understand the reason he liked the abuse was because it soothed the past. The crinkles were ironed out, habitually the cycle continued as his pleasures were with receiving and giving the same torment as his mother had. Forcing out the demon and letting it play. At some point it would all center at his groin and he'd be able to fuck it out. But it always came back, it always came back. Elena liked that it did, because it meant he would always come back too. _

**Three years later:**

Christian is eighteen, the fights had stopped, he graduated high school and Grace did not know what to owe this sudden change in his behavior to. Had she finally gotten through to the beautiful gray-eyed child? Had he had a premonition that such a living would only take him to the brinks of nothingness? She knew he had been drinking, fighting, dying inside. Now, he was seemingly floating by within his odd nature.

Maybe it was because when Christian failed to improve in his studies, Elena had tied him up. She belted him over a good 10 or 15 times and then taken him roughly with a foreign object inside him. He did not know, he was blind-folded. But it all ended in pleasure.

It did not seem strange or wrong to the either of them and they enjoyed each others company. The years treated Christian well and he was even more handsome now.

The years had also made him softer to his parents. But the distance did not change. Most of his time was spent with his older mistress. Exercising in strange and exotic indulgences. No one suspected a thing because Elena was a friend and a little over ten years older than the boy.

Once, when Elena had taken Grace out for coffee, the boys mother tried to get some information out of her.

"_So what is it?" Grace finally mustered up the courage to ask._

_Elena looked over her sunglasses, to bat her eyes at her friend "What is what?"_

_"Your secret." She explains "Christian seems to be your friend. I'm curious, is it because you're cooler than me?" Grace laughed like it was a joke. But in earnest, she was rather self-conscious. Her fear was that Christian would open up to her pretty, blonde friend and never give herself a chance. It downright bugged her._

_Elena cleared her throat before the lie "We work together" She states, awkward "We talk but nothing deep or personal. Christian doesn't go there" This - however, was the truth._

_"And I don't ask him to. I give him space, that's all. I don't probe and prod. I don't think he wants to re-hatch the past, Grace"_

_Grace thought that over. Give him space? She fidgeted with the idea. He had enough space, she wanted his trust. Grace yearned for his confidence in her. It seemed moot but she had this fantasy, that one day she would unlock him and drag him from his small, dark room and out into the threshold of the light and the little boy in him would laugh and laugh and she would tickle him and all would be right._

_"I suppose you're right" Grace took a sip of her coffee and Elena made a small "Hmph" knowing that her friend was far from satisfied. _

**Grace's nightmare:**

She was on a boat, it was wavering with the movements of the sea. Calm and relaxing... The moment would always seem somehow cosmic in all it's gorgeousness.

Grace would sit up and Carrick would be at her side...Then she'd see Elliot and Mia. They would all be laughing and smiling.

Suddenly, she would notice the absence of her youngest son. She'd whip her head around in a frenzy.

"Christian!" She'd call out to the open sea but as far as her gaze could reach, she would see nothing but the cool and calm majesty of the mysterious ocean.

"Christian!" She'd cry over and over. Looking at her family, asking in desperation for him, but none of them understood her. It was as if she was speaking an odd dialect from some stranger alien.

Out of the corner of her eye, she would catch a floating body. It would be her son, face down in the blue and sinking...Slowly sinking.

Grace would dive head first into the freezing waters, she could make out the noise whales make...Whale songs. She would be struggling, swimming hard towards her ever sinking son

But he would only sink and sink and sink and the most heart-wrenching feeling would descend as she reached out but could never get her hold on him. She could never hold him, never hold him, never.

Then, she would feel herself sinking with him. Refusing to surface. Her hands, reaching out into the depths of the beautiful, beautiful blue...The sun hitting off it and bouncing off her palms, kissing her with the sadness of a thousand lives. Her arms would remain stretching madly and demented, as she watched her son, dissipate into the blinding blue.

It would always jolt her awake and she'd toss and turn for hours before welcoming sleep again.

* * *

**I'd like to take this moment to thank all of you for the support! It's much appreciated!  
****Check out this tune "The Light - The Album Leaf" ****It's always been something nice to write to.**


	4. Mr, Lincoln

**A moment with Mia:**

Mia was nineteen now and she was a beautiful girl. On one, particular night, she had went to see a small show at her college. The orchestra had preformed and she watched with her wide, bright eyes in awe. Anyone who saw her could see, she had been swirling in a dream, watching the way the melody had ripped from her, something solemn and sweet. Her entire family missed those dreamy eyes of hers, how she'd clutch her chest and spill out secrets like they meant nothing and force some out of you as well, only by her honesty, did you feel compelled to follow this lovely, lover into her magic world.

Mia stayed, as everyone else left, only the band remained in the back, behind the thick, velvet curtains, drinking and talking among themselves. Mia seized this chance to make her way up the stairs and she walked straight to the cello. Caressing her fingers across the smooth wood...

She thought of it for only a moment and than sat down on the chair and began to play. The Swan Saint-Saens. Mia loved this tune, it reminded her of an old, untold fairy-tale. One of sadness. One like Christian, he was one of the saddest things she had ever knew. Not because he was sad, but because a troubled soul is somehow beautiful, much how a soul as ethereal as hers was beautiful. They each contained a quality, one which allowed them to control the strings and notes of their instruments - to preform with loveliness and soul.

A man who had played the piano could, softly, make out a wondrous tune out from where he had just preformed. He quietly parted - going to see its source - and out on the stage, he saw a woman. She was cradling the cello, her eyes closed, she was concentrating on something far away... And randomly, for split intervals, she'd take a peek, to watch the way the bow hit the system of strings...watched how it danced.

She took no notice of the boy, she was lost in a daydream that the room was full and she was playing for the smiling faces of old friends, family, lovers of all kind, even some strangers and secret Gods. The boy watched her, captivated and charmed.

The song came to it's ending and the woman stood and gently placed the instrument as she had found it. When she caught the boy out of the corner of her eye, she glanced wide eyed but hardly embarrassed. Her eyes were bright, the boy thought, like so many others had and would. Though they were honey, it seemed some of the sun had sneaked its way inside them. Her hair was less than shoulder length at the time and it, gracefully formed about her face. Her lips were chubby and looked endearing by her smallish features and pixie nose.

"Sorry, I was having a daydream" She sang and the boy smiled.

"You play beautifully"

Mia held his eye and smiled back "Thank you... I should be going"

The boy watched her descend the stairs and give a short wave before leaving. He was not sure he would ever see her again. But he hoped he would.

**Mr. Lincoln, the Mistress' husband:**

"What the fuck did you do?" He had her blonde hair, short as it was, wrapped around his fists, in knots.

The man had gone through his wife's e-mails that same morning, he had suspected, but had never wanted to believe, however, that his wife was having an affair. Let alone, did he think he would find e-mails about Christian Grey. Then on her phone, he saw messages between the two. None of their words hinted to how dirty their relationship truly was, but it hinted enough. It was obvious something strange had been taking place...

And Mr, Lincoln sought the betrayal as a rage that would meet no sympathy.

It played out as some dramatic scene, one expected in an opera of some sort.

"You twisted bitch, what the fuck did you do?" He shoved the woman against their bedroom wall and she looked defiantly at him.

"You made me do it, you are never here. I' am always alone" This was shit. They both knew it, Elena was not this type of woman.

"I made you?" The man began hitting her face, hard and cruel. Showing no morals, no decency. "_I made you?"_

Repeating her words and actions in his mind, building up his anger, so it bubbled over and he punched her. "I made you into a pervert?"

"I'm no pervert" She clicked her tongue, her eyes filled with hate "Fuck you!"

Down came more fists of fury.

"You like fucking boys, Elena? Sounds like a fucking pervert to me" She struggled away from his angry words and hitting hands, to no avail. The woman had received enough, it was becoming too much for her now.

"Let me the fuck go! _Fucking let me go!_" Her voice strained and hurting. But she refused to bid any tears.

He rammed her into the ground, landing a swift kick that made her bawl up, within herself, preparing for the next blows. He kicked again and again and now she cried.

"_Stop, fucking leave. Leave, leave._" She screamed at him and finally, he let her go. Mr, Lincoln had somehow noticed, in blind anger, how she had not said sorry.

So he lifted her by her hair before departing and held her face close to his. "I bet you're sorry now"

"No" Elena spat "You fucking loser, I'm not sorry. Get the fuck out" She had never, would never be sorry. Not for herself, for her submissive's, for anyone, ever.

Her husband simply shoved her back, roughly into the wooden floor and left with a single suitcase, his credit cards and some of the jewelry he had bought Elena over the years. Then he drove off into the ominous night. He did not look back.

**Grace and Elena:**

Elena took off her bug-eyed glasses and with a hint of embarrassment, showed her friend her severely bruised right eye. Then, removed the piece of cloth she had tied around her head and there, you could see the bruising up her jaw line.

Grace had demanded an explanation when she noticed the way her friend had been limping and the inflammation of her lip. Grace knew a beaten face when she saw one.

"What?" Grace breathed "Who - who did this to you?"

"George" Elena admitted and hated herself for it. This would rise so many questions. The one she hated most. _The why's_

"Why?" Grace said and Elena was defensive yet cavalier.

"You know, he's just some rotten, jealous, old coot. Cannot stand that my business has finally taken off. He can't accept that I may be more successful than him"

Grace felt a pang of hate for Mr, Lincoln and on the spot wanted vengeance "Have you called the police?" When Elena didn't respond, Grace lost her shit.

"You _can't_ let that pig get away with this! You have to press charges! This is serious, he's abusive!" Elena could, somewhere, understand Grace's seriousness on the subject. So could Christian who couldn't help but over-hear from where he had been fiddling with the piano, reading and memorizing some of his favorite pieces.

He had already seen Elena's bruised body, she had called him right after Mr, Lincoln had departed and they agreed not to see one another anymore, in such a fashion as they had, that is. It was too risky. They would only be friends and business partners from now on.

"Elena" Grace continues "People like him deserve to be punished"

Christian felt sorry for his mother. It was for him, that she held, more than any natural human, such a contempt and utter hatred of violence and abuse of _any_ kind. She knew, more than most, what it could mean, what it could do and she spent her life trying to make it right.

However, Elena quickly dodged the woman's intensity of the subject and changed it entirely. Not being able to stand the sorrow in her friends eyes. Not when all Elena seemed to do was lie and lie and lie.

**Jason Taylor:**

Jason Taylor knew a much different Christian. The enormously successful business man and Entrepreneur. The apparently cold, distant and harsh man, yet Taylor had also seen the man who played the piano and appeared rather sad. It could not be black or white. Their were too many shades of grey.

_Now_, he didn't think of it. Today was his day off and he was at the park with his little one. His little princess.

Sophie had her mothers pretty eyes and her hair was ringlets of brown and gold that raced down her back.

"Daddy!" she called to him "Watch me! Watch me go down the slide!"

Jason laughed and promised her "I'm watching, sweetie"

The tiny girl soared down with a mass of giggles and ran right to her dad "Did you see? I was fast, huh?"

"Yes, you were!" He picked his daughter up and swung her around in the air. He would always be surprised at how light she was. How tiny and fragile. Sometimes, it would drive the poor man crazy. She was so precious and yet so carefree, he'd worry of all the horrors that could bestow on such a thing.

Mr, Grey paid for her schooling at a fancy Elementary of the arts, where she was learning the violin, had a singing class, as well as an art class. Christian was inspired by Mr, Taylor's dedication towards his daughter, loyalty and kindness, above all others. This had also been the deal that fully convinced Taylor to be this mans Chauffeur/ Body guard/ Whatever the moment entails. It was a challenging occupation. But not without its benefits.

Through-out the months the two men had developed a form of friendship and silent communication. They knew each other well.

Jason had murdered men, had his share of a rough and brute upbringing, he knew the evils of war and what darkness human skin could hold. This was that silent bond.

As well as that, - they had both surpassed those evils. Living another day, catching another breath... A Refusal to submit to the darkness that was still raging within them. The fear and anguish.

Though, they could both also relish within it. Embracing the past like a wholly deserved shit-show which could only bring the drive, the will, the attitude which brought upon success, which brought about strength. Jason Taylor would be one of the strongest people Christian would meet, next to Grace.

But that angel, belonged to a different story.

**A moment with Christian, Grace and Elliot:**

"Oh, I'm so happy you could stop by" Grace mushed, in love and happiness.

"I'm sorry, I'm busy - I" Christian still felt that same unease with this woman. He had not changed his ideals of himself over time. He still thought he never deserved this woman's devotion to him. And felt guilty, for somehow, managing to trick her into it.

Grace raised her hand to interrupt him "I know and I' am _so_ proud of you. You have no idea..." Her voice tightened, threatening to crack. _You must be strong for him, _she thought, _you must always be strong. _

"I came, also because I wanted to show you something, It's not too much of a drive, if you're not too busy" He mumbled, not sure of himself.

"Oh, Christian!" She scolded "I always have time for my son"

Elliot butt his head in at that moment and bellowed "_Hey,_ how about last week when I asked you to come to my place?"

Grace rolled her eyes at her oldest, blue-eyed and beautiful son "Because darling, I know you want me to do your laundry and give you money."

She smiled at him and teased "Will you never grow up?"

He scoffed "You guys are just jealous because I haven't let society take hold of my carefree spirit"

Both Grace and Christian shared in a unison eye-roll.

**Later - "The Grace":**

"Where are we going?" Grace mused and eyed Christian as he drove, mostly in silence.

She had been staring out the glass pane, taking in the trees and morning dew and she could smell the ocean out her window. It was a calming smell and when the sea came into sight, she smiled a sad smile, thinking of old memories and trying to capture them, like photos in her mind, as if to keep them forever.

"You'll see. You and Mia are so alike, so impatient" He laughed, lovingly, to his mother. Despite, saying Mia's name had made them both miss the giggling, foolhardy child. It had been a few months since she had left to Paris.

"We're here" He announced, as he parked and went about to open the door for the woman. Her eyes alight with curiosity. This was a first, _maybe another step_...She was wondering all the possibilities.

They walked along the bank of the seas dock, over-looking the calm, blue-green waves. A comfortable and gentle looming silence.

"Hermm - right here" Christian motioned Grace to a castle of a boat. It was a majestic sight and she had been so taken by its enormous size, that it had required her a few moments to notice the name.

_"The Grace"_

Elegantly crafted on it's side. Her eyes went straight to her son and she gave him a wide grin.

"Oh, sweetheart" She cooed "It is so lovely, Thank you"

Softly, she took his hand and gave it a quick, affectionate peck before they both went aboard to enjoy a day on the ocean.

* * *

**Thank- you for the kind reviews and for being so supportive! I recommend you all hear the piece Mia played (Saint-Saens: The Swan) It really is beautiful. I wanted to create a scene where we catch a glimpse of more than just the happy, jubilant Mia but the talented and dreamy one as well. **

**I have much more to write of these interesting characters. I'll update as much as I can, so long as it is still worthy. I also have a new kitty I have to love a lot! Bare with me, friends and thanks again.**

**One love!**


	5. Leila

**Leila:**

Leila was in her "Masters" office. She was like a kitten and that's what Christian liked to call her in his playroom, she was mischievous much like a kitten and it twinkled in her eye. That's what made Christian want her as his submissive, he could tell she would be a lot of fun and indeed she was.

Right now she had that mischievous grin, plastered to her sly and pretty lips. Leila had taken it upon herself to add some less than tasteful music to the boys I-pod, giggling the whole time. Every car ride and tune he played in his playroom , consisted mostly of classical instruments. Not that Leila didn't appreciate such fine and beautiful creations. It was simply going to be a hoot when he noticed it, she hoped she would be there to see it and then of course, would come the punishment. Leila was a fantastic submissive, she rarely had a limit, she thoroughly enjoyed it. Psychologically, it stemmed from her father's absence in her childhood, the unconscious desperation for a dominant male figure, to boss her around but treat her like a Princess. So she was, Christian lavished her with expensive gifts, once a poor child, she now danced around her Masters work room in a seven hundred and fifty dollar dress and diamond earrings.

Once Leila had added her select choice of music into Christian's I-pod, she dotted around a bit, looking at the array of books he kept. She decided to get a pencil and draw a funny cartoon and stick it in one of the pages. The figure was lanky and the slightest bit crossed eyed, the brows furrowed and the tongue hanging out to the side. Next to it, she scribbled _"Christian angry" _Under that, she drew an even angrier figure and wrote next to it "_Christian seeing image above" _She added an arrow and grinned, rather pleased with herself.

"May I get you anything?" Mrs, Jones asked, as she sees the brown haired girl, glide through the hallway, back to her bedroom.

"Yes! Some wine would be great, please. Red if you have, any kind."

Mrs, Jones nodes and on the way to the kitchen Mr,Grey and Taylor approach, heading straight to the office. Christian looks absent-minded, his eyes off somewhere distant.

"Mr, Grey would you like your dinner now?"

He barley glances her way and mutters "Yes, Mrs, Jones. I'll be in here"

The woman and Taylor share a warm smile and she blows the man a kiss and he blushes ever so lightly, barley noticeable and then he walks into the office behind Mr, Grey and softly closes the door but not before giving the girl a wink.

**Later that same night:**

Leila was in her bedroom, she was flipping through Salvador Dali portraits, sipping wine and doing small sketches of her own off the sides. She had just showered and her hair was soaking down her back, her big brown eyes, light and focused.

Suddenly her door was thrown open and there stood Christian, he leaned against the frame and gave the woman a wry grin.

"I have to say - your depiction of me is fairly accurate. Well done" He holds up the doodles she left tucked in one of his books and she cocks her eyebrow.

"I can't take all the credit - Mrs, Jones helped" Her voice was a purr and it sounded attractive, even with it dripping with sarcasm.

"Did she now?" His smile faded as he took in the young girl more fully now "Why have you left your hair wet? Are you looking for punishment, Leila?"

Her answer was only a saucy grin and she deliberately stretched herself out among the bed, all her curves were stretched against the thin fabric of her nightgown.

"I have a call to make" The mans voice, masked in lust "I will expect to find you in the playroom, in your proper position and_ with your hair dried._"

He did not wait for her reply, he only stepped out and shut the door.

Leila sat up and quickly went to the bathroom to fetch the hair dryer. As she ran her fingers through her thick, brown hair she thought of the time Christian had blow-dried her hair. It was a good memory, she had behaved so well and pleased her Master fully and so he had dried her hair and bought her a pretty necklace.

Leila wasn't the least opposed to these luxuries. Her mother had spent paychecks on booze and partying and her dad left when she was five and never returned. For years, it seemed fate had been rather cruel to her and now, fortune had blessed opportunity. If a prostitute was what it came down to, at least she was a pricey one, she'd think of this to ease the darkness back, to keep it chained. She was the only one around to make her feel better, besides all this, she still felt...Surprisingly alone. A master is temporary, this she feared everyday. Never consistency, never a place to call home.

Leila blinked away the pain and finished up her hair. Once inside the playroom she slipped off her clothes, lost in thought and folded them onto the dresser. Then, dutifully, she went down onto her knees, palms spread on her thighs and there she waited.

The door creaks open and locks, she is not permitted to look. Not yet. Though, she can hear the pitter patter of feet across the floor, Master plugging in his Ipod, suddenly Leila found herself stifling a loud, obnoxious laugh.

The second Christian had flicked the _on_ switch and Brittany Spears roared to life, loudly, he had almost jumped out of his skin. Then, he heard the young, kneeling girls manic giggles and he narrowed his eyes at her. They were, however, dancing with amusement.

"Leila, you have been very naughty today." His voice soft and sensuous, as he lowered the volume immediately and changed it to something more suitable to his liking.

The man walked to stand before the kneeling girl "You may look at me."

Her big browns met his hooded grey eyes and she was still pressing her lips together, holding the laughs.

"Stand and place your hands on the bed. I' am going to punish you thoroughly, Leila"

The girl complied in an instant, her hands melding into the soft mattress. Christian tugged her hair back hard and braided it in a seconds time. Leila could hear him reaching for one of the many instruments hanging off the wall. Only when it struck her the first time did she realize his weapon of choice was a whip. It was a hard and painful spanking but she did not complain once. Her eyes would only shut and at most she'd gasp out and gulp down the lashes that were searing in there sting.

Nine she counted so far and two more before he stopped only to shove himself inside the girl. The harsh mixture of both the pleasure and pain made her come within minutes and it was strong and lasting, building up for more...

After sometime and Master had been satisfied, he left her, without a word, returning to his work and Leila was free to think again. But thinking was not kind to her and she decided to go to bed, so she would not have to think at all.

**A month and a half later:**

"I want to terminate the contract" Leila said that night, surprising her master. He took notice of the luggage at her side, her mind clearly fully made up.

"Is there any specific reason as to why? You have been a good submissive, naughty, but good."

Leila smiled beside herself, loving so much she had pleased him. "I know but that's all I will ever be here. A submissive."

This was true. Leila was tired... tired of the nothingness. Her mind was demanding comfort and love and a home. She was so sick of being alone.

"I see..." Christian nodded, this was not the first time a submissive of his went wanting to be more than that. Honestly, he did not think Leila to be one of them. "Have you met someone?" The idea suddenly occurring to him.

"Yes. But that's not the full reason. I want - I _need_ someone who can offer me more, someone to be my equal" Maybe, something in her wished it could be this man but she knew better. This was not the place where love would find her

"I understand" Christian said, in earnest. He was happy she had not hinted any ideas of that person being himself. That would not do. He could not participate as a partner, he was a dominant, a controller...He was not a lover. "Of course, you may keep all my gifts" He adds and the girl grins.

"Thank you"

"Taylor" Christian sang and the man popped his head into the study.

"Sir?"

"Would you take Leila's luggage to the car and drop her off wherever she pleases" Christian gives the girl a soft smile, he would miss her antics.

"It was a pleasure Ms, Williams"

The girl returns the warmth with a sadness "Ditto babe"

She gives him a wink before leaving and so seemingly sure and okay - inside she felt a pang of deep unease and worry. Change, lonesomeness, lonely, lonely. This was a weight that had existed since she was a small girl in her pale pink dress waiting up all night on the porch for daddy to come home.

Deep, down to her very bones...It always seemed everyone could let go of her so easily. _So easily. _The girl swallowed back the unease and fought the worry till it went back to the out most layers of her subconscious. Leaving it there to rot.

* * *

**There will be longer chapters! Sorry for my typos!**


	6. Dr, Flynn

**A moment with Mr,Grey:**

While Christian had been working out to blow off some steam, listening to his I-pod and attempting not to think, the ridiculous songs Leila had left on his playlist came up and he had to admit, he kind of missed the wayward child.

Leila was a very pretty girl, so lively and artistic and playful. He had heard she was now married. Out of curiosity, he checked out the guy and frowned with distaste, the man had quite a rap sheet, four of which were domestic abuse cases, two for possesion. This did not seem well, he was not a heartless man and he had wished the best for the girl.

It seemed he would have to find another submissive, which was not all that difficult, Christian knew he was attractive, he knew the effect he had on women but this did not please him. Sometimes, it seemed ironic that a man of such self-loathing could be so beautiful.

He wished at times that he could escape, to rid himself of hate and fear but hold onto sweetness and love. To run to a place, a place where the mind does not arrive and he could surrender to the beauty of the sound of silence and forget, forget, forget. Still, there was no place like this and he'd settle to loose himself in those sad piano keys, instead and wonder idly into a type of meditation. Each note, another spilled truth, another haunted memory which received no memorial. So instead, he played their lamentation.

There would be no pity, no fucking pity ever. He despised the very nature of it. There would only ever be this - this mournful lullaby and then he could rest his head awhile, in his loveless room and if he was lucky, he would not dream.

**The infamous Flynn:**

"Hello, Christian. It is nice to see you again." Doctor Flynn shook his hand and proceeded to his chair, while motioning Christian to sit as well.

Christian did not respond but sat down, running his hand through his hair. Flynn was use to this behavior and it did not bother him in the least. He was a good man and understood, at some levels, this strange and tortured person who sat before him.

"What's on your mind?"

"The nightmares" he hissed, mostly to himself "They are so often now, more than usual..."

"Tell me them."

Christian ran his fingers through his hair, again "About the crack whore and the fucking pimp she let beat the shit out of me."

"Christian, it is important to understand that your mother was a weak woman. Very lost and confused, it is also pertinent that you take in her condition. She was most likely psychologically ill. Tho-"

"I don't give a fuck" Christian interrupted, annoyed.

"Your subconscious believes otherwise." The Doctor cleared his throat "And so do I. The man who did that to you is a monster, yes, but I also think that it's important to talk about your mother, your feelings for her-"

Christian scoffed and became defensive. "I don't give a shit! She didn't love me, there's no feelings I have. I'm glad she's dead."

"Understandable. Young children require love and loyalty from their parents, boys especially with their mothers. This is why you can't accept your family's love, isn't it? Why you see yourself as so unworthy. You see yourself in pieces, Christian, not fully and knowing your mother, I think she would agree."

"Grace thinks I'm something that I'm not."

"I disagree." The doctor said, quickly "I think she simply sees you fully."

"No. She doesn't. My mother doesn't know the sadist her son is, she doesn't see how fucked up I' am."

It was Flynn's turn to scoff now "How many times must I say this? You are not a sadist, that is some ancient, bullshit ideal made up by a congregation of idiots. Modernly, it is no longer documented as a sexual and or mental disorder and hasn't been seen as such for decades, unless of course, these acts are inflicted upon a non-consenting partner. Which is not the case, so I must encourage you to refrain from using your out-dated terminology"

Christian smirked at the tone in the Englishman's voice.

"I like to fuck girls that look like my mom. Tell me how that's all fine and dandy." His intonation was snarky.

This was the only person who knew of his dark demon and because of this, it would often come out to play and show the worst of itself. Doctor Flynn did not mind, he rather enjoyed Christian's company and had no aversion to the man.

"_That" _Flynn explained "Is surprisingly common among people who've had horrid childhoods. A girl who has, so-called 'Daddy issues'- "

He motioned this expression, with a wiggle of his fore and middle finger.

" - Will seek out men who remind them of their father. Usually much older ones who look or have similar characteristics. It's nothing to be ashamed of, you had an unfortunate upbringing and it altered your perception and on some levels - your consciousness. What attracts you now is irrelevant. What is, however, pertinent is how you want to continue out your future."

"I want to find a new submissive." Christian thought this, but somehow, it had made volume.

"What happened to Leila?"

"She wanted more... She got married."

Doctor Flynn raised his brows "That was quick, how do you feel about it?"

"I don't" Another run of his fingers through his hair "I'm happy for her."

"You liked her?"

Christian rolled his eyes. "Yes, she was a good submissive...always up to something."

"You did not want more?" Flynn knew the answer. But wanted to ask anyway.

"No." The boy, sighed "I don't want her that way, I don't want anyone. I don't want to be fucking touched or loved. I can't." This was the truth, though Leila had been a good submissive. He was not interested in anything else from her. He never would be.

"Would you go into more detail of your nightmare?"

Christian squirmed, slightly. The images cascading through him and his body went tense.

"I'm - I'm holding my knees up to my chest, closing my ears and rocking back and forth. I'm humming some song, I can't remember. It's dark...I'm locked up and I can hear screams and cries" His teeth, gritting and he stops, no longer wanting to share.

"Whose screams and cries?"

"The crack whore." Christian spits, his voice cold and where others would have been frightened by his harsh demeanor, Flynn is intrigued.

"I see and do you think she would be sorry for not being able to be there for you?"

"No and I don't fucking give a shit"

"I disagree. I think underneath her addiction and personality disorder, there was some sense of affection. Were there times she was kind towards you?"

Christian pondered and a hazy picture, clouded his minds eye...It was rather difficult to reach, like controlling some lucid dream. It was little him and his mom at a park, she was pushing him on the swing. Was this real? Was this some foggy daydream he once illustrated to make the child in him stop his whimpering?

"I- I don't know. Maybe." He confesses.

"What do you see?"

"Us at the park, she's pushing my swing...What the fuck does it matter? So what?"

"Because it is a chain reaction. Emotions onset the cycle of future behavior and circumstance. Like why you do not like to be touched, for example. But do you believe that _you don't want to_"

"Yes"

"Well. One day you might feel otherwise and then what would you do?"

"I won't." Christian barked. He had no idea that Anastasia existed, how she was now at work, tucking her hair behind her ear, sighing, eyeing the clock with pools of beautiful blues, and wishing she was somewhere else. If he had, these words would have been a lie. Though, he believed them now. Any touch, reignited the flames of each old scar.

Only Mia hugged and touched him but she was his baby sister and she won over everyone. Oddly, Flynn's mind was in a similar place and he spoke up again.

"And Mia?"

"She's different, we've fucking talked about this before. I've...known her since she was an infant. She's a demanding and pushy girl. I never had a choice, she's my little sister."

"You love her. Do you believe she loves you?"

Christian was getting tired of this but couldn't help but think of it anyway. Mia had told him often enough...

_Mia's nightmare:_

_Christian woke up to the sound of his bedroom door opening and peeked up to see his little sister, clutching her bear, her eyes wide with fear._

_"What is it, Mia?" The boy said, worried._

_"I - I had a nightmare. I'm scared in my room" Her voice so frightened and sad._

_Christian rolled out of bed and took her hand, leading down the dark hall. He motioned for her to get back into bed and once she complied, he pulled the covers over her and sat down beside her. Their hands still clasped._

_"Tell me about it" The boy yawned, sleepily._

_"It's dark and there w-was this hooded man and he was in all black and he wanted to take me. He was a bad man." Her voice tiny and breathless. _

_"Don't worry, Mia. It's your imagination. If he comes again, you tell him your big brother is around and he'll beat his ass"_

_Mia giggled and grabbed his cheek "Hey! Bad-word!"_

_Christian smiled and kissed her forehead. "Feeling better?"_

_The tiny girl nodded "Would you check in the closet and under the bed?"_

_Christian rolled his eyes "Give me a pillow, I'll sleep next to you, right here on the floor until you fall asleep. Okay?"_

_Mia beamed and handed him a pillow. After a few moments of silence Mia spoke up one last time "I love you." She said and then turned over and fell into a peaceful slumber._

"She tells me she does." He whispered

Flynn knew this was hard for his patient to accept. He did not believe himself worthy, he could not capitulate that he was entitled to this love and to his family. To him, his world was one of eternal night, and the moon was so in love with the sun and as it was, it was the one thing he could never catch. The shell that cradled this man was one of stone and in it was the sadness of the world and he wished often he could, somehow explode and his remains would fly to the deepest ends of Mother Earth and there he could serve some sense of meaning.

"I think she does, Christian and I think Grace and your whole family do."

"Shut up"

Flynn laughed and shook his head. "You, my friend are a brilliant and curious challenge. I find it remarkable how low you think of yourself. It's frustrating but I prefer it over a chauvinist any day of the week...You are a good man. A good man, with shitty memories, do not let them control you."

Christian rolled his eyes again and grabbed his coat "I have work to do."

"I'm sure you do. Take care, Christian. See you next week."

**A moment with Mrs, Jones and Jason Taylor:**

"You look splendid." Taylor whispered in her ear, making her smile and blush.

Mr, Jones was a sweet looking woman. Her skin - soft and the loveliest shade of ivory. Her almond shaped eyes were the color of bark, a symmetrical nose, strong jaw and full lipped. Taylor thought she was beautiful.

"Thank you" She turned her neck to face him, he was very close...He took advantage and pecked her lips. The woman returned the kiss, softly and lovingly.

She was a widow, her late husband had died fighting in combat. Two years ago when she came to work for Christian, it took her weeks before finally accepting Jason's advances. She was attracted to the man, since the beginning. However, it was the hardest thing she'd done. Guilt would sweep through her and she'd spend nights sobbing. Disgusted by her own betrayal.

Though her old lover was dead, she'd still kiss him in her dreams.

But she was kind and whatever God or Gods or fate would have it, they believed she ought to love again and so here she was now, in Jason's corridor, laughing and talking over wine.

The man decided to start up his old record player, throwing in a Chet Baker vinyl and "My funny Valentine" soothed its way into the room.

Jason offered his hand and they began to slow dance...A comfortable and delightful silence, as they swayed in each others arms. Listening to the trumpet and occasionally looking into each others eyes...

So many sullen souls and mortal bodies filled with fear. Broken hearts and father and motherless children. Crumbling walls and memories bleeding, fresh. Sometimes, it's in a slumber but it always leads back to the weeping. Broken hearts, like Christian, like Leila, girls who suck dick and look for a fathers love.

Broken hearts like Mrs. Jones, whose anguish had reached marrow deep. The man before her, sweeping away those memories, bleeding fresh, sewing the wounds up, nice and tight.

Some of us would be so lucky. To shake it off and never look back. Men like Jason, who thought he was the same bastard as his father, he had been born with same hazel/green eyes. A memory of a childhood house of doom. Now he laughed. No more dreams of sorrow.

Here, he felt freed...Both of them being rid of those crumbling walls.

Small, tender moments like these... Which made this whole living thing, more worth it than words could denote.

That night, the couple slept, soundly, together in the same bed, still holding each other.

* * *

**I always like to thank you all for the reviews, favorites or what have you! I really like Mrs, Jones and Taylor (we never got a chance to get to know them) and I wanted to bring out a human quality we all know - suffering. It is relative and we all seek happiness and I enjoyed writing these two as a couple and I hope you enjoy reading it. One love! :)**


	7. Ella revealed

_Again, I'd like to warn, this could be disturbing to some._

**Behind Ella:**

The sun is down - bottles all around the house, they reflect the glass, hit off the wall and they catch the girl's sweet, brown eyes. It was momentarily, blinding.

Her brother has been gone for days and she wonders if he will ever come home. That night she had wept in her pillow, she had no one else... She was a motherless child and had been for years.

Suddenly, the bastard came stumbling in the door. His eyes racking up his daughter, in a most unnatural fashion. He had no care of his missing, first born son and probably hasn't even took notice. They are very poor, if anything, it would be a blessing if he never showed again.

"Ella" He slurred, he was drunk and he stumbled to her. Ella crunched up, instantly, revolting his touch. This upset him and he grabbed her face, tiny waves of shivers going through her. He pressed his whole body on hers, running his hand up her thigh.

"Please...stop" She begged. Not wanting him to touch her, it was so fucking sick. All of her, cringed and cried at his hands.

"Your not a fucking child anymore. Don't fucking act like it" His voice is harsh and he grazes his hand under her shirt now.

But the girl squeezes away and dashes for the bathroom, locking it with a speed so quick, it took the drunkard by surprise. Ella was shaking, uncontrollably, heaving in an air, that seemed impossible to get a hold of.

The girl grabs her hair with both her hands, knotting them to fists, eyes unnaturally wide with fear, as her body is consumed with sobs.

"Open the fucking door, you bitch." Banging, banging, and Ella snaps...

"_No! NO! Stop! NO!_" The girls mind can take no more and she backs up too far, unthinking and falls into the tub, her head hitting the dirty tile. Her entire being, crumbling and she curls in on herself.

"Mommy" She weeps harder and harder "I want my mommy." she whispers, speaking to no one. Though she is seventeen, her demeanor takes on one of a five year old.

She calms herself out of her overwhelming fright...She plays pretend, loosing grip on reality. Sweeping away those memories. Replacing them, with ones that never were. Flowers and a large field, her brother and mother, laughing and enjoying a picnic. Watching the sunset... That night, there would be fireworks and they'd all watch and talk about their dreams.

Ella sniffs and smiles at the fake memory.

But the truth was still in her, eating around the corners of the fantasy...She was _his _child. Her father's daughter. Her heart was sore, remembering the stains he left on her bed, while she broke down, alone. The deranged man, who twisted up her soul and caused her a pain that ran deeper than a river.

Ella, in just four years time, would become a prostitute for drugs. The only escape she knew from her home and from her reality. She would steal, suck dick, allow men to use and abuse her body. It made no difference. The release brought about from the drugs, could only last so long and then her mind would revert right back into that mournful beat, the one that was trapped in her head, like those jewelry boxes you can open and it plays a little tune for you...But hers only played one of deep sorrow.

In just another year, she would get pregnant and it would be a fatherless baby, produced by an anonymous face. She had no money for an abortion and figured he would end up just like her. Lonely, fucked-up, a pathetic drug-addict without a thing to her name.

When the child was born, she had to sneak from the hospital with the baby wrapped in a towel, all to avoid any bills and that night she contemplated leaving the boy somewhere. Maybe she could drop it off on the other side of town, maybe a rich person would find it or she could leave him in the street, or she could take him to the police...No, no, no. She wanted to be better than her father.

She paced her house all night and finally took a long, hard look at her creation. The infant looked back up at her, with grey eyes and she took notice to them, they were very pretty, she thought.

"Why did you have to come along?" She whispered, her voice strained and hoarse. "What have I done to deserve such bad luck?"

The girl took the child's hand and was fascinated by the sheer tininess and fragility of this being before her.

"Hey" She said, a bit softer now "Maybe we can look out for each other. You and me, huh? Now you're all I got and I'm all you got. Two no bodies."

The baby took comfort in the familiar voice and drifted into sleep. Not knowing, he would be the one who would have to care for her. At the ages of three and four, he'd be holding his moms head, while she sobbed because she had no drugs, her memories were eating her and she had no one and was so alone. This would be his childhood, caring for this emotionally disturbed lady and trying hopelessly with pliers and glue, to fix what was beyond repair.

Psychologically, she passed on the abuse. Each time she refused to protect and defend her son from Greg, each time she forgot about him and left him alone for hours, or didn't feed him, this was the torch being passed. All her short-comings and neglect, infringed onto him. As her father had to her. And so would Christian onto his own kin, if it had not been for Grace.

The series of events that unfolded for Grace in her younger years led her to the very spot she was in now - up in her study, listening to classical vinyl's, sipping wine and reading an old doctor's book from her college years. Had she not been born with her innate and overbearing need to care and protect children, she could have still remained successful. Had she not been unable to bear children, Grace would have given birth to a girl and boy and Christian would have never found a home. Which would have been a shame, since, it so happened the child who would need her most, would not have been her own...

However, fate was funny in its fortune and he dealt out cards with a transparent purpose.

**Elliot and Christian:**

They were both in their late teens, they had skipped school today and went downtown with a bottle of their father's Jack in their book-bag. They were sharing glug's on the bus and occasionally talking shit.

This was random, Elliot hardly bonded with his little brother. It was difficult, to get through the initial layers of distance his brother emanated, but drunk Christian was surprisingly playful and talkative. Almost like a child.

Once they arrived, they walked about, smoking a ciggarette, at one point stealing a few beers from a shop and finally, they ended up at a lake. You could see the cities skyline and the sun setting over the tips of the metallic landscape. Besides the industrial feel, it was beautiful.

"I wanted to say thank you for standing up for me, that one time...In school" Christian was drunk by now, his filter gone. He was still emotionally so young and sweet. Not knowing how to come to grips with the life before him, he was still the lost boy looking for his young mothers love.

Elliot's eyes widened a fraction and he smiled and punched his brother in the arm "Any time, kid. You know..." Elliot was drunk as well and bravery gave him the chance to speak freely. "I always wondered...Do you remember a lot before Grace?"

Christian looked away. "Yes." He remembered the bad man, remembered his mom and so many of the things the two had put his poor mind and body through. He kept looking away, not wanting to show the fear in his eyes.

"I don't" Elliot admitted "Really all I remember is Grace. Poor mom...she adopted some assholes didn't she?" He laughed, speaking of himself and Christian. Obviously, insinuating all the mischief they reek.

"She's a good person" Elliot, continues. "You know, she asked me once if you ever 'opened up' to me" He laughed, like the idea was insane. " She is so pent up on you. It's like an obsession."

There was the tiniest bit of jealousy seeping within his words, but mostly, Elliot knew that Christian had a fucked up childhood. All he wanted was goodness for him.

Christian smiled, sadly. He knew Grace was always on the hunt to know him better. It was just too hard. It was not like he didn't want to be open with his mom. It was too hard, _too hard_. Similar to an angel trying to coax Lucifer out of his tomb of hatred. It was moot, it was a hopeless case. _Or so he thought._

"I just don't know how." Christian shrugged, his hands running through his hair like his young mother use too. If heaven was real and she could see him now she would have wept, softly. Ella never wanted her son to be the spitting image of her and here he was, the same disease that held her, was now his.

"We get it...Carrick too man." Elliot stretched his limbs, feeling love and warmth and happiness. Not bothering to continue on the same conversation. Elliot really did understand. Some things, _were_ too hard.

"We're lucky man!" Elliot was beaming with his new found gratitude . "We should make them something, like an awesome card with nice words. We'll have Mia decorate it, she's always into that lame stuff"

The boy waved his hand with mock distaste, even feeling the need to tease his sister when she wasn't around.

Christian smiled, fondly too. They continued their small talk and roamed around the town some more before heading back home. It was a day that would be stuck in the their memories forever. _Fond memories,_ where their simplicity is what renders them into greatness.

As the moon cast it's beauty over the world, the Grey's house fell silent, as all the sleeping bodies, dreamed...

* * *

**These were quick images I thought of while taking the metro to work! I always took Ella's behavior as someone who was mentally disturbed, rather than just out-right cruel. Thanks for the love and hope you like this chapter! :)**


	8. Anastasia

**Anastasia and the break up:**

Anastasia was looking at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were swollen from tears and she began to roughly brush her hair. Her lip, bleeding, due to the force of her teeth. Her heart was bursting... She wanted to fall into a sweet slumber and never awake again.

Suddenly Ray walked, shyly and quietly, into the girls bedroom. Pausing, taking in her troubled gaze, her tearful blue eyes.

"Ana." His voice strangled. The man did not know what to say to console this child. The one he raised himself and though she did not belong to him, he loved her. He loved like a true father, with a fierce determination and loyalty.

The girl looked at him from the reflection of the mirror.

She was not angry at this man. But it didn't matter - the marriage was breaking up. It gave her a silent heartbreak. Now, she did not bother to be strong. Strong like she always had to be.

"I don't want this." Ana mumbled. She wanted her mother to stay, she wanted to stay. Her family was being ripped, her small, small family..._Disintegrating._

"Ana...I know this is a lot. But your mom and I...There is only so much fighting you can do with a person. I'm sorry, we won't be together anymore. But I still...Love you"

He was awkward and it was hard to say these words. He was still, after all these years, panicked at the idea of Anastasia's rejection of him as a father. He feared, even now, that the girls mom would remarry and that man would take _his _role. He was Ana's father, he would not stand it any other way.

The girl tried to hide her new tears... "I – I don't want to go."

Ana finally admits. This had weighed on her like the world, itself. Wouldn't she be expected to follow her birth mother? She didn't mean to close the door on her mom, she wanted to be here. Home.

"Ana. You know you can stay here. But I think you should talk this over with your mother. Alright?"

Honestly, this was a overwhelming joy but he did not show it, he worries for the well being of his wife. He did not think her heart could take all this.

Ray left the girl to be alone as she thought of childhood. Her life before Ray and how her mom would cry to her often ...

"_Oh Anastasia" She sobs, the girl looks so much like him...Like her father. "I wish you could have met your father"_

_ The woman is wailing, a little tipsy and curled up in her bed._

_Ana looks at her mother with a overbearing sorrow. "I know, mommy. I'm sorry"_

"_Oh you have the same eyes" The woman stands and grabs her daughters face. "I wish he was still alive..." _

"_Me too" The girl shivers. She hated when her mother thought of her dad. She hated how she did not love him, he was a daydream, a ghost and she could not feel the attachment, to what she never knew. This gave the young girl a great remorse._

"_You would have been his little princess. He would have loved you so much." _

_Something had to sweep away this yearning - for what could never be, because the woman was submitting, fully to her sadness and self-pity._

"_Mom. Please." The child begs, softly. _

_The fatherless child, her mother thinks and turns away. No longer able to bear the blue gaze of her daughter._

Anastasia wondered how she could ever leave this woman. But soon, she'd realize she'd have no choice. This fact began to remold itself, once her mother remarried not long after her divorce to Ray. It would be to a man Ana would learn to dislike more than anyone. Even hate.

The man liked to drink often and argue. The girl once overheard him, telling her mother that she was a nuisance, that he had made a mistake of marrying someone who already had a kid. Her mother defended her but it had been the last straw for Ana and it sent her running, to the only dad she knew. Back to Ray.

Her mother moved to Texas with the man and Anastasia had felt a pang of betrayal... But she understood, even as a young teenager.

Much to her gratitude her mother divorced and remarried and Ana gave secret blessings that her mom was taken care of by a sweet man who loved her. And so it was, her new husband loved her madly.

It seemed as though fate had once again brought a balance...

**Years later - The "photo-shoot":**

Christian strolls out of his shower. He bitterly mocked himself, in his head. Laughing a bit, he was actually going to go through with this. Participate in a damn photo-shoot all to see _that _girl again.

Truly, he had never done so much just to get a girl in his playroom, and this one, was so young and obviously innocent, it sent the man hurling into a deep insanity. At night, before sleep conquered his conscious, he would find himself thinking of her. Of her fucking eyes.

He still yearned to force the girl over his knee and spank her. For her probing questions, for making him do this fucking photo-shoot because the way she grinned at him when he stalked her to her job and agreed to do it. Her blue pools looked like they were reflecting the sun and her smile went almost from ear to ear. It was a very pretty smile. How could he refuse that look?

He remembered loosing it for a minute. Loosing his words and breathing in suddenly. _What the fuck was that?_ He didn't like the feeling but at night time, when he thought of her...He wanted to see that smile again and so he'd do the fucking photo-shoot.

The man goes down the elevator accompanied by a brewing Taylor. Christian is calm as he approaches the open suite, his eyes, now, only for that damn girl.

"Ms Steele, we meet again" He reaches out his hands and makes contact with hers, she is warm and soft. Very soft. He muses on this for a bit, while the girl mumbles away, breathless and sweet, motioning to a girl beside her.

"-Katherine Kavanagh." The girl becomes quiet, as the blonde approaches.

Christian is holding back a laugh. Thinking of the clumsy Anastasia...How she kept addressing her friend, informally, at the interview and would stutter, correcting herself. It happened over and over and it was fucking hilarious to him.

"The tenacious Miss Kavanagh, How do you do?" He keeps his composure, remaining polite.

Anastasia briefly takes notice to his tight smile, she wonders at his amusement. It is hard to keep her cool, this man racks her body with unknown desires.

"I trust you are feeling better?" He continues " Anastasia said you were unwell last week."

Ana likes her name in his mouth and he likes saying it.

"I'm fine. Thank you Mr, Grey. Thank you for taking the time to do this" Kate's tone is all business and it stems directly from her father, Christian barely takes notice as he seizes the opportunity to flirt with the little Ms, Steele.

"It's a pleasure" The man smiles and looks directly at Anastasia and as he guesses, she flushes, her cheeks churning into that endearing shade of soft pink.

A very odd urge sprang and he wanted to squish her cheeks and kiss her nose. The girl was thoroughly – too adorable for his bearing. He had never wanted a submissive more. The thought that bothered him still, was the plans he had for this sweet girl would send her running and screaming. It made him feel unpleasant.

_I could make you feel so good. _He thinks, idly and suddenly she's talking again. He snaps out of his trance, listening to the girl.

"This is Jose Rodriguez. Our photographer." The girl smiles at her friend and he too can't get enough of that grin. He smiles back to her, part of him pretending they were in love.

Christian takes notice to the affection and if he thought he felt unpleasant before, he was now instantly in rage. Jose turns his gaze to the infamous Grey, feeling rather unpleasant himself. He had saw the way he made Ana blush, it made his stomach twist a little.

"Mr, Grey"

"Mr, Rodriguez"

The moment is unnecessarily tense, though it dissipates as Kate starts barking orders. The minutes seep into a fog, Christian only finds himself vaguely aware of his surroundings, twice. Each time he locked eyes with Anastasia's beautiful blues.

He promptly decided he was going to take her out for coffee. This time, she would not get away so quickly. He'd get a little longer to look at her pretty eyes and make her blush. As the shit-show comes to a finish, he quickly regards Kate.

"I look forward to reading the article, Miss Kavanagh." He barely finishes speaking to the girl before he's turned straight to Anastasia.

"Will you walk with me, Miss Steele?" Though his voice is charming, Kate is momentarily fraught with worry for her best-friend. This man was not good news, to her. She pegged him for the man who fucked and dumped and she was not completely wrong.

"Sure" Anastasia stares momentarily, dubious and Christian holds another laugh.

"Good day to you all." He takes notice to Jose's scowl and smirks as he opens the door for the blue-eyed girl.

She scoots by him, her face pink again...

He walks with Taylor trailing him and takes notice with his small, small smile - how the girl is fidgeting.

"I'll call you, Taylor" The man takes off without a word.

"I wondered if you would join me for coffee this morning?" Her full lips part as he speaks and the man becomes distracted, thinking of all the things he'd like to do with those lips.

Anastasia clears her throat. This man had floored her since the interview, the way his grey eyes bore into hers. It did strange things to her untouched body.

His interest...taking her by sheer surprise. "I have to drive everyone home" She says, truthfully.

Christian dismisses her sentence all together and calls loudly for Taylor, whom returns, quickly from the end of the hall.

"Mr, Grey?" He says, trying not to look wearily at his boss, he had been having a bad morning, though it did not show the least. His bosses eyes are alight and joyful as he asks him to drive the others home.

"Certainly, Sir" Taylor replies, strict and in control.

"There. Now you can join me for coffee?" It almost didn't sound like a question coming from Mr, Grey's mouth but another request.

The girl he is imploring frowns "Um – Mr, Grey, uhm, Look – Taylor doesn't have to drive them home."

The girl meets eyes with Taylor and she seems uncomfortable with the favor. Not wanting to be a burden, this almost makes Taylor smile. Almost.

"I'll swap vehicles with Kate, if you give me a moment." The girl continues in a soft, rushed tone and Christian smiles broadly at her. He had almost thought she was going to deny him.

The girl turns on her heel and heads for the suite, almost before Christian can open the door for her. This makes him frown down at the girl for a small moment. Was she not use to being treated like a lady? The idea made him rather annoyed. If she was his, she would only get the finest of things.

_If she was mine? _The man takes a double take at his choice of words. But doesn't think too much of it.

He had convinced himself from the moment he saw her, that all of this, was simply followed by lust for the girl. Indeed, he was very attracted to her. As she came walking back from the suite, her small hips swayed and he noticed what it did to her full breasts. It was distracting, a fantasy clouding his vision, her tied up to his cross, as he lashed her with his whip...Her lips parting like they had, but this time, she was moaning.

Whoa. He reeled himself back in, gaining command of his thoughts, quickly.

"Let's do coffee." She says, sweetly and they head off together, Christian taking her soft hand, again in his.

**That night:**

Christian got to bed around three or four in the morning. Exhausted enough, he figured he would be free from thought and nightmares but the demon in his mind had other ideas. It kept him aloof from slumber. Terrible memories gripping and grabbing, crawling up the corners of his cerebrum. Making him buckle and toss and turn amongst the haze.

Weirdly enough, he found some peace when he thought of Anastasia. His mind drifted off, till it was encompassed by her essence. It happened quiet suddenly.

Christian pondered on the way the girl spoke of her mother. As if, their relationship was in reverse and Anastasia took on the parental role, an emotional guidance rather than a daughter. He thought of the way she looked up at him, when she walked carelessly into the street, ripping her hand from his and almost got hit by that fucking cyclist. Her lips had been so ready for his but it did not seem right. For once, Christian was at a loss. He did not know how to handle this sweet girl. They had departed on seemingly bad terms, would he ever see her again? It seemed he may have blew it.

But Christian wasn't keen on rejection and instantly he began thinking of how to please her. He could tell by the way her body reacted , she was attracted to him. The way she got all breathless and blushed. It was so fucking endearing. So much so, it irritated him. He did not understand why, but it was because he liked the girl. A crush a little boy would have, because he still was one. The Gods could have hooted and hollered, doubling over in laughter at the irony. - The man who did not want to be a lover, was thinking of romantic ways to win the girl over.

"_I find you intimidating" She had said, blushing and looking down at her fingers. He almost reached his hand out and tilted her head up by her chin..._

_He was surprised by her out-right honesty and it pleased him. He wondered what the hell was going through her mind, especially when she looked off, in a daze and then would bite her lip and blush. Oh, it was an intoxicating sight._

_No wonder she had those two boys ogling her, like love-sick puppies. Christian thought of them with sheer distaste in his throat._

Immediately, he was struck with an idea. Though he thought it best to leave her alone, to not spoil her with his dirty ideas - he was still plagued with the need to end things better. Unconsciously, he hoped his gift would make her call him and he could see her again. But that idea was kept, carefully, in the back of his mind. He had no place for it. His reality did not accept the idea that she could be anything more, than another girl in his playroom.

Fate once again, had a very different prospect...

**The call:**

Christian had chosen the books he sent her with delicate care. He had remembered her talking all dreamy about England and her favorite authors, her eyes got distant and he wished he could follow her to whatever wondrous place her mind had disappeared to.

Not only did he spend well over thirty thousand dollars on the first editions, he plucked the most perfect quote for her. Letting her know, he had not changed what he said before. He was no good for her and yet he could not help but send her something to remind her of him. He was at a conundrum with himself...

Once the evening had gave way to night, Christian's phone buzzed and he glanced at it with little interest. He was pent up in his study, his brother had come for an uninvited visit, so he excused himself, briefly with an imaginary e-mail he had to get to... Only when he recognized that it was Anastasia, did his face turn to one of baffled delight.

"Anastasia?"

_Christian recollected the way he said her name as they walked to the coffee shop. She had asked him if he had a girlfriend and it was such a honest inquiry, it made him think sadly, how she had not a clue of the darkness he had within him._

"_No Anastasia" The words, lolling off his tongue, like it was an endearment rather than her name. "I don't do the girlfriend thing." At least he had given her that nit of truth. _

"Why did you send me the books?" The girl demanded of him, straight away and he paused, thinking this did not seem much like her. Braver, did the shy little Ana he knew, have a brave front? He smiled at the idea but concern took its place in a flash.

"Anastasia, are you okay? You sound strange." Why was he so unhinged?

"I'm not the strange one, you are" She snapped back, without a beat and Christian detected the slightest slur in her words.

_She's fucking drunk. _Christian thought this with a sudden fury. _What the fuck is she up to?_

"Anastasia, have you been drinking?" He questions, his interest peaked.

"What's it to you?" Her retort was unwelcome. Her attitude making him want to spank her and he gritted his teeth that he would not be able to. _Not yet, _he mused, surprising himself.

"I'm – curious" He said in earnest "Where are you?"

With the photographer boy? The idea of anyone taking advantage of little Miss, Steele sent him whirling into anger.

"In a bar" Is her strict reply and Christian sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

"Which bar?" He demands. The girl ignores him and asks again...

"Why did you send the books, Christian?"

"Where are you? Tell me now" He is loosing what little patience he possesses, the image of her tied up and getting swat with a whip, helps relieve the twitching that has seized control of his hand.

The girl has the audacity to laugh loudly at him and if he wasn't so upset, he probably would have laughed with her. Her giggle was infectious, he couldn't help the smile which tugged at the corner of his lips.

"You're so – domineering" The irony of her statement is not lost to him. But the idea of her vulnerable in some bar, ripped him from any humor.

"Ana, so help me, where the fuck are you?" Christian was at his wits end. His hand, clenched within a fist now. How could she be so defiant?

The girl giggles again, not the least bit fearful or shocked by his tone. Christian rubs his hand over his face, exasperation running through his veins.

_Anastasia you annoying girl! _He growls, to himself. _I will beat the shit out of you one day for this!_

"I'm in Portland..." She finally says "s'a long way from Seattle."

Anastasia does not guess he wouldn't have a problem getting there.

"Where in Portland?"

"Goodnight, Christian."

"Ana!" He shouts into the receiver. Demented at her defiance. She fucking hung up on him. Anger sears through him. _She fucking hung up on me?_

Anastasia also does not guess that Christian is willing to track her down. It takes him a brief moment and he's pinpointed her location. It soothes him only slightly and he, quiet upset, redials her number.

"Hi." She squeaks. _Oh now she's fucking shy._

"I'm coming to get you." Christian does not bother to hear her response, he shuts the phone off and heads right away to Portland.

A drunk Anastasia could only be bad. Especially if she's alone at that bar. Christian guessed otherwise, hadn't she finished her exams? She was probably celebrating with the Kate girl. This did not ease his tension, she was probably with the photographer and not to mention every other male who could take advantage of her.

The image momentarily blinded him with a cascading rush of brute anger. How could she be so careless?

Elliot had vaguely over-heard Christian's conversation with god knows who. It sounded like an argument one would have with a girlfriend and Elliot was about to make a snarky remark to his brother, before he noticed the enraged look on his face and decided against it.

"Why so mad little bro?"

"Come – we're going to a bar." Christian did not explain further and Elliot only made a loud hoot of approval, swinging his shoulder over Taylor, surprising the man.

Elliot did not have the boundaries these two did and Taylor shifted, uncomfortable with the contact. The stalky man barely noticed and only clapped his hands, making another hoot.

* * *

**Hello friends. I just sat down and starting blabbering. Hope you like this chapter. I won't be doing scenes from the book, often. This will be one of the few. Thank you all for the kind reviews. One love! :)**


	9. A quick one at the docs

**A moment with Flynn and Christian:**

"So you're saying you engaged in a non-kinky sex?"

"Yes!" Christian said, exasperated. "That is what vanilla sex means. Normal shit. Everyday shit."

Flynn looked with hidden amusement at the man before him. "Was it enjoyable?"

Christian thought it over and found himself disposed to saying yes, if he ought to be truthful. Sex with Anastasia was very, very enjoyable.

"Yes." It was odd to admit, change was not always easy to come around to.

"You say you did so because she was...Inexperienced...and in your bed. That's all very new stuff for you. Do you think it's because you have feelings for the girl?"

"_Anastasia_" Christian corrected "And...No - I don't know. Not in the way you mean."

"Anastasia" Flynn repeated, politely. "What _way_ do I mean?"

He was smiling because of the obviousness of the question and the irrelevance of Christian's response. There was not a doubt in Flynn's mind, that something was adapting within the other man, the way one remolds themself out of attachment, out of love.

Christian rolled his eyes, his sculpted mouth, framing into a hard line, besetting his features in a scowl "You fucking know what I mean."

"Love? Wanting to be with someone? Wanting to take care of them? You do not feel these things for the girl - I mean, _Anastasia?_"

Suddenly, Christian's face relaxed and then just as abruptly, turned to one of shock, then relaxed, then back to the scowl.

"Don't fucking mock me and no, I can't be any of that for her."

"I apologize and that is not what I asked. I asked if you_ felt_ those towards her." Flynn looked on his patient with a sadness but refused to show it.

The doctor knew it would only upset him. The man was clearly struggling, attempting to consider the possibility that a woman could plague him with such emotions, while after so long, he fought against any chance of being held in such a position. Running from any real understanding and connection between himself and love.

It was still, even now, hard to believe someone like him was worthy. It did not make sense.

Christian ran his fingers through his hair. He knew he could protect Ana, keep her safe, he wanted to. Sure, he wanted to be with her, who wouldn't want to be around someone so sweet and sincere and innocent? Especially someone who was so dark and secretive and fucked up?

"I guess so." He mumbled, lost in thought, lost in stars.

Flynn's eyes shot wide, utterly shocked. _Who was this fucking girl?_

"Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?" His patient, snapped. "I don't love her, I just...Care for her. Fuck. Doesn't mean I want to be more than her dominant. I took care of my other submissive's too."

"But never had 'vanilla sex'?" Flynn, intrigued "So would you say, at least, she is different? Didn't you say she hasn't even signed your agreement?"

"Oh shut up. Why are so obsessed with me saying I love someone? I love my family."

"I know that, Christian. That has never been your problem."

"What_ is_ my fucking problem?" His voice was strict, but wavered slightly, under his mask of calm, collectivism. His sea of emotions were becoming turbulent. They were hitting the brinks of a hard-limit, he could already tell.

"Realizing, that they also love _you." _Flynn spoke and it left the room silent.

Christian crossed his arms, staring defiantly at the man. He could have just as easily been sticking his tongue out, yelling:_ "You can't make me."_

"I don't have time for this crap!" He sprung up and reached for his coat, eyes hard and glazed in petulance.

"Closing the door on this won't ever help you." The doctor, implored. "Keep your mind open, it's the only way to expand and further yourself emotionally."

"You sound like a goddamn hippie."

They both smirked and shook hands. "Good day, Christian. I trust I will be seeing you. I'm sincere, however, attempt to...refrain from your closed off nature."

"Yes, yes." The man dismissed, with a roll of his eyes. "See you."

In a minute, he was out the door and Doctor Flynn sat back down in his chair, taking a sip of tea, he looked out his window. The sun was peeping in through the small holes of the curtain, dancing in an array on his wooden desk.

He wondered at them, thinking for a moment, the futility of life - How ineffective we are to gain any sense of true accomplishment and wisdom. He laughed at it, with a sad regret, before returning to the book on his lap.


	10. Chapter 10

**Grey as he lost Ana:**

_"Your fucked up." _Oh, those words she said, hit straight to that splintered mind of his, recasting a light on the truth. He believed it, more then she, the truth in her words...Fucked up? Yes, he was. _So fucking fucked up_...

The Earth, as it seemed, was pushing him into the darkest and most dreadful layers of his cerebrum. That demented, demon who hides in dreams, had now fully surfaced, suddenly, ripping the poor boy from his sanity. Or whatever he had left of it.

All his life, he thought he knew what he was and what he wanted. _Now_...Feeling like he's never felt. It was as though, he had never gained any sense of control... Now only_ digressing, repressing._..Oh he felt a need to scream, like those lovely post-punk songs, where they would yell about, in microphones, each fear and inadequacy. Christian thought he needed to take a step back and regain his calm, collectivity and try and let her go..._let her go._

Oh, he knew he should have never let her in. Now she was gone, left him here, alone. Sweet girl was right too. Each whip of his belt on her, was another staggering sting to what issues this man bore. Every time the leather met skin - It was another attempt for the lost, small, child in him, to cast out those eating memories...Memories of childhood, the lack of a young mothers love and the man she let mutilate him. Both physical and mental.

_"Your fucked up." _Her words etched behind gray-eyed misery. Oh he lost it. The order, the control. Heavy thoughts, dragging him...Down, down, down into that river of sorrow. Cascading through him, in a intolerable abundance... Till he was drowning.

How could he have been so foolish, to think he could ever hold onto such sweetness?..._Now_ she knew. Knew the sickness he carried. She was right to leave.

But how could he let her go? _No, no, no._ Gargling up his soul. The world, pushing him face first into the dirt.

Oh, freed from this sorrow sounds like swollen joy. A place Christian would like to visit. How can one volume these tears of sadness? He should have never let her into his bed, he should have never slept next to her dreaming body, he should have never made love to those blue eyes.

Yes. Made love. Anastasia, he did not fuck. He made love to her. What had she done? How could he have allowed her to seep skin deep?

He had been right all along, Anastasia would have only ever brought him heartache. He was such a fool thinking he deserved a chance at love. He wanted it so bad...Wanted her so bad and now gravity wore itself upon his soft skin.

He could not free his mind. He could not exorcise that demon.

Christian's hands clenched at the note she had left him._ "Reminds me of a happier time"..._

He caressed it with a tenderness, with a gleam in his eyes. He would change for her, if he could. He'd be anything for her. No one else made his soul fill with light, how could he just let that go?

"My sweet baby..." He whispered to no one, still cradling Ana's note to him. He did not want to mourn his memories. He wanted to sleep by her sweet body and forget them all...

She took away his nightmares, he never slept so soundly, with her little body by his. Maybe, she could take away that sickness too...He crushed the daydream in an instant. But still mulled it over, in quiet hope. Ah, Christian the hopeless hopeful.

Christian took the phone from his pocket and dialed Taylor's number with a spontaneous urgency and the man answered on the first ring. "Sir?"

"Find me the finest bouquet of roses. No fucking discoloration or signs of them dying and shit. I want the prettiest damn fucking flowers you can find."

"Yes, Sir. Only the finest."

Taylor smiled as he ended the call, despite the barking order, he had never seen his boss - the way he was with Anastasia. The sweetheart of a girl, even stoic Taylor became rather fond of. The quiet, shy, polite little child. Taylor knew...Knew, they were in love. He imagined the look of adoration on Christian's face as he stared at Ana - mirrored the one he had, as he look at Mrs, Jones.

Christian's head fell into his hands and he thought, baffled, that he might begin to produce some tears. She had told him...She loved him. Those words from her lips had made his eyes burst open. Now he was going to send her fucking roses, like that shit would make a difference? The man mocked himself in a ruthless laugh. A cold, mirthful laugh.

_No, Its wrong_ - he had told her after her confession. But those words, oh...Coming from her darling mouth. He had never felt so alive and so horrified. How could he have tricked this angel into his labyrinth of the demented?

_"I'm falling in love with you." _Christian grinned beside himself, replaying her words, still gripping onto her note, his fingertips stroking the ink...

**Back at the Doc's:**

"She told me she fucking loved me. I had just beat the shit out of her with a belt...Made her...Cry. She was crying so much. She told me I was fucked up and then she says she fucking loves me?" Christian ran both hands through his hair, his eyes confused, lost...Scared.

Flynn observed him in silence for a moment. Honestly, a bit shocked.

"How did you feel when she said she loved you? What was your response?"

His patient scoffed, like the obviousness of his question was one a preschooler could deduct. "I told her she was wrong."

"Why would she be wrong? You have no say over her emotions. I think you are the wrong one."

Christian's head snapped up and locked eyes with his psychiatrist. A distinct dislike in his comment. "I would only be proving further, the monster I'am if I keep trying to be with her. She deserves better."

"Why did you beat her with a belt?" Flynn said, while crossing his right leg over his thigh.

"She fucking asked me too. Then she didn't fucking safe-word!"

Flynn looked bemused but spoke in earnest. "Did you ever presume she was trying to please you and then just couldn't handle it?"

"Which is why there is a fucking safe-word. Who the fuck...Why. Just, I don't understand."

"Did she explain why she left you?"

Christian racked his mind, fully reliving the moment.

_I can't, I can't. _The poor man thought, his fingers again, running through his copper hair. _Please, he begged to that absent and invisible God, Please tell me you were once this desperate. _

"She wanted more. She said if this...issue of mine was always going to get in the way of us...Being together, she didn't want to stay."

The Doctor cleared his throat, "I see. What do_ you_ want Christian?"

"I want...her back. But I know I'm alone, one jaded mother fucker. How could I blame her? Now she can hate me. I hope she does." Christian didn't understand why he said this. What provoked this stream of consciousness that he always kept tucked away.

Flynn leaned over in his chair, in absolute fascination at his words, his sudden and acute honesty.

"You are more then your memories. Like I said, _you see yourself in pieces_. Anastasia knew what she was getting into. Your nature is not what repelled her. She said she loved you _after _the incident and you told her she was wrong to. She wants to be with you and you denied her. That is why she left. Why would Anastasia be okay simply being your submissive, Christian, when she loves you?"

"I- I can't be more. I don't fucking know how. I don't fucking want to." Again arose the petulant Christian, the small child in him still so scarred by the absence of his mothers love. He would wonder as a boy, how he could make her love him, what he did wrong to make her so distant,...So far away. He could not understand that Ella, was incapable to love herself, nor her child and the illness of hers, had been passed on to her son. Immortalizing the pain.

"Are you willing to try?" Flynn, procured "She was willing to try for you. It seems to me, your low ideology of yourself is hindering something that can truly help you. Anastasia has already made you open up and show more emotion than I've ever seen in the years we've known each other."

The Doctor paused, choosing his words with care. "I'd suggest you make an effort to talk this out with her."

"What if she doesn't want to see me?" Mr, Grey...Actually looked insecure. _What stranger was this?_

"Give her and yourself a chance. You will regret it if you don't. Christian, there is more to people than just their darkness. Indeed, you have suffered a great deal. But this suffering, can be the breaking of your shell. Maybe Anastasia is the one you want to let in? What do you think?"

Christian rolled his eyes. "Are you a philosopher or a fucking doctor?"

"You're avoiding the question."

The man gritted his teeth, but could not deny. He wanted Ana, he wanted all of her. "Yes. I do."

"Then? Make the effort."

* * *

**Hello kind reviewers! I know my snippets are short (some more than others) but these are just random moments that pop in my head and there will be plenty more. I just heard a song and it reminded me of this moment, where Christian had just lost Ana because of the whole playroom incident. I have been getting some requests and though I accept them, I cannot promise I will follow through, I just write what comes to me. One love and thank you all. :)**


	11. A glimpse at the park

**The swing set:**

Ella had walked hand in hand to the park no more than three blocks from her rundown efficiency. It was a loveless place, four walls which could harbor only doom and rough memories. The kind people like to forget, but also the kind that shape the human spirit.

Being born in tough circumstances - creates a kindness, in some. The power in you, to help, _to change_, to make a difference. But today - today you would never tell. The woman looked sweet as she lead her son to the swings.

"Sit down, Christian, Mommy will push you!" Ella's cracked lips, turned upward into that smile. The boy loved it when she smiled. It was so rare. Especially when it was directed to him.

The boy complied, with thrill. An exhilaration seen only in childhood and can seldom, sneak its way into our adult bodies, leaving a brushing air of rushing excitement...

The swing, creaked as the mother pushed her son - back and forth. The wind hit the boys face in a delightful way and he squealed. Wanting to go higher.

"Higher!" He squealed again. A happiness embodying.

Ella giggled "Hold on tight, I'm going to ship you off to space!" She took hold of the wires and went back as far as the swing would allow, slowly couting

"Five...Four...Three" Christian, grinned, a face splitting grin that could make any mother fall in love.

"Two...ONE!" and he went straight up, high, high, high and he was too, captured by a fit of giggles...

If only...Christian could fully recall this moment. He did sometimes, when Flynn or Anastasia forced him to talk about the crack whore. The brutalized, shamed and a true nobody of a crack whore. Who was also this woman here, laughing, light-eyed with her son.

If only...Ella could see, Grace. She would have kissed her hand for loving her son. Love ought to be more than blind, but without judgement, without contempt. For it comes to us all, differently. Not all would be as lucky as little Christian or so dreadfully unlucky, all at once.

* * *

**Peace and love to you all. **


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